Vhenan'ara: Heart's Desire
by Merilsell
Summary: Lenya quickly noticed that life in the foreign shemlen world is all but easy, especially when loving one of them.- Various Oneshots, snippets, and Out-takes taken from and set in the "Of Elves and Humans" universe, but can also be read on its own. Now Rated M for mature themes.
1. Black and White

_**A/N**: As said mainly Alistair-related prompts of the BSN goes in there, set in the "**Of elves and humans**" universe. Aside random silliness and snippets, those prompts give me the freedom to indulge in the more advanced topics than I'm right now in my main story, as well to write possible AU-versions of the main-events. Which means that they don't necessarily happen like this in OEAH...or **at all**. Heh._

_Beware it is unbeta-d yet, so all your grammar bases are belong to us :p _

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_**Prompt:** "There were times Alistair almost wished he'd never left the Chantry." _

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**Black and white**

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Alistair restlessly wandered up and down in his room in Redcliffe castle and tried desperately to distract himself from the raw anger bubbling within him. In his head one thought kept replaying over and over again.

_How could she have done this?_

He just didn't understand. For a long while he kept this nervous routine up, his body all tensed and the fist clenched at his side while he waited for _her_ to return.

At the moment the handle was pressed down, Alistair's head snapped to the door, well knowing that he had lost the inner struggle against that overbearing irate feeling.

Her blond head peeked through the crack of the door, blinking bewildered as she perceived his odd, agitated behavior."By the Creators, Alistair, wh –

"Lenya, we need to talk!" He growled at an instant, even before the Dalish had fully entered his..._their_... room.

Something in his voice made her frown, afraid even. She never had seen him so enraged before. Alerted, she slipped into their room and waited for him to actually _explain_.

"H-how could you do this?" He snapped at her and his breath trembled as he fixed her with a stare. "You have killed Lady Isolde."

"I have wha - ?" Lenya's posture immediately changed, the anxious nuance within faded for utter exasperation. She crossed her arms, holding his angry stare. "So this is it about, huh? I haven't done such a thing and you _know_ it. You were _there_ after all, Alistair."

His eyes narrowed at the indifferent tone in her voice. " Oh yes," he hissed, " I was there and have seen how you have let Lady Isolde sacrifice herself to _blood magic." _He spat the last two words out, as if they were burning his mouth.

Lenya turned and slammed the door shut to not entertain the whole estate with their argument. She took several deep breath to calm herself down. It wasn't working. "So, you really want to fight about such a thing? _Fine._"

"No, I just can't understand how you could have made such a decision. How could you let Jowan use blood magic?"

"What should I have done instead that it had fitted in your Chantry-addled world view? Kill the shemlen child? Would that have made things easier for you?" She snarled in a sardonic tone, glaring up to him.

He silently held her gaze for a moment. "No, of course not. We should have gone to the Circle of Mage, seeking their help instead. We should have tried harder, instead of –

"We have discussed that before and I have told you that this was _not_ an option," Lenya interrupted him brisk.

"But _blood magic – _

"Blood magic, blood magic, _blood magic_, is that all you care about?" The elf was screaming now. "Should I have left an abomination run free, unchecked here for a couple of days, just to go to the Circle to _please_ you? What if the demon within that _Da'len _had the urge for another zombie attack, while we were away for the mages?"

"It is not all!" Alistair objected sharply. "But Connor's mother is dead, the Arl's wife. How could you live with that decision?"

Her foot tapped rapidly on the ground, her patience all spent. It was like talking to wall.

"We have already discussed that. I thought you had listen, stupid me. Lenya roared, her tone all icy. "And by the way, Alistair; I live every single day with _such_ decisions. This is it what it _means _to lead! That woman has given her life freely to correct the wrong she had done. To save her son and all the shemlen in the village you and I have fought for the night before."

She shook her head, slowly backing away from him. "You idiot. If everything were so easy like you believe it is, I wouldn't have left my clan in the first place." The Dalish muttered an elvish curse under her breath and stormed to the door.

Alistair lowered his gaze and let out a long suffering sigh. On days like today, he wished it would have been just that easy for once.

Just how his life in the Chantry were.

Getting up early in the morning, then hours of praying and training until sundown. Nothing more. There was no constant fighting to survive, no Blight, no darkspawn. No questioning what Eamon would say when he wakes up, just to find out that they have _killed_ his wife. No feelings of guilt because of it.

Everything was far more..._easier._ A comfortable black and white, without those complicated shades of Grey within.

During his days in the Chantry existed only good and evil and nothing in between of this. Blood magic was simply evil, as well as abominations were and therefore slain without questions. Now in his days as a Grey Warden, he ironically was forced to recognize those shades the Chantry has blindfolded him for years with their teachings. As a Grey Warden blood magic suddenly served a greater good to _save_ lives and even an abomination. _This_ was all _but _easy to grasp. Frustrating even.

Not to mention that he let all dissatisfaction out now on that one person, who was able to make such hard decisions where he could not. The woman he loved and trusted. _Should_ have trusted.

_Crap. _

With a few fast steps, he strode through the room and justly reached the door as she wanted to open it.

"Alistair, I swear by the gods, if you don't get out of my way, I'll kick you there where it _really_ hurts."

He was aware that she was all _but_ joking, especially not with that low growling in her voice, he knew too good. Nevertheless, Alistair didn't back away, blocking the exit with his huge frame and looked pleadingly down at her. "Don't go. Please. I'm sorry."

Lenya let out an annoyed groan. "You think it is always that easy, huh? One apology and the world is whole again? You have questioned not only me but also my trust _and_ my ability to lead. Which is by the way a role _you_ have shoved to me in the first place, because you felt too uncomfortable to decide such things. So don't 'sorry' me now for outright screaming at me, because I have exactly done _that_."

He smiled apologetic. "In other words, I was a complete and utter fool? Sorry, and I _mean_ it. It wasn't fair of me to let my frustration out on you."

"No, it wasn't," Lenya muttered quietly and shifted beneath him. To her own surprise, she felt her anger slowly subsiding again.

"Maker, I shouldn't be second-guessing you like this, which is easy to do when you are not making the decisions." Alistair rubbed his face with one hand and sighed. "It is just that I'm so weary of all this death and – " he halted his words, as she took his hand away from his face and intertwined it within her smaller one.

"I know..."

Moved by her gentle and appeasing gesture, Alistair took her hand up and planted a chaste kiss on the backside. "Sooo, is this the part now, where you tell me that life isn't easy and scold me for being an idiot?"

Her eyebrow shot up, actually amused now."Well, I'm not Wynne, you know? Though the idiot part," she grinned, sticking her tongue out to him, "I think I've already covered that."

He chuckled. "Oh, yes, many, many, _maaany_ times even. So you don't mind if we skip that then and advance to the fun part, right?"

With that, Alistair moved closer to the Dalish and cupped her chin to put it up for a long kiss.

Life outside the Chantry was without a doubt far more complicated, but there were _some_ things that made it worth.


	2. Bad dreams

_**A/N:** I have played Darkspawn chronicles lately for the first time and well...that is the result of it. Tis a short mock/parody-version of the crappy OOC-fest that the DLC is/was. Written for the lulz, so don't take it (too) seriously. Due to the many innuendos within, it helps to know the "DSC- codex"-entries of the characters there for the full lulz, but it is not mandatory._

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**Bad dreams**

Denerim was burning.

The relentless, blazing heat of the flames swallowed everything they touched, threading their way upon the dusty ground up to the buildings, devouring them.

The sky was tainted blood-red and clouded by the stinging smoke of the fire and burning flesh. Men and women were screaming alike, running away in panic but there was no escape of the dreaded, impending dead looming over them. They should have been evacuated, long gone before the attack started. But the message didn't reach the capitol in time and now it was too late. One by one got slaughtered by the darkspawn, bashed away like little puppets by the mighty ogre wading through the streets, roaring and conquering.

One of them was a not-so young, sour-milk smelling washerwoman, who tried to escape of the creature's grasp and hysterically screamed "Alistair, Alistair, HELP!" even shortly before the ogre smashed her like an old cabbage.

The hurlock vanguard marched in front of its group, seemingly pleased of all the mindless destruction and killing its troop has caused and with a terrifying grunt incited them for more, storming upfront itself. Their sanguinary trace of blood through the streets had a chant of its own, humming _killkillkill _with every merciless step they made further into the heart of the city.

~V~

Amidst all the chaos stood one man dressed in Templar armor, momentarily constipated by all the death surrounding him, stirring. _No,_ he shook his head. He couldn't get moved by this, wasn't allowed to, not when he had only one goal.

Stopping the blight.

It was his duty as Ferelden's last Grey Warden, his destination. A crying roar filled the entire air and an immense shadow darkened the red horizon even more. His head drove up to the sky, locating the sound of the flapping wings, as he saw the _archdemon _flying into the direction of Fort Drakon. This would be his objective, the ultimate one. He must reach the top of that building, no matter the cost.

He had come so far, he couldn't fail now, not after he managed to gather such a strong troop to defend his nation. Determination was etched into his expression as he ran across the battlefield to the gates of Fort Drakon, killing everything in his way. He was about to storm through the doors of it, as an unexpected but warm voice made him stop on his heels.

"Warden-king Alistair!" He turned around to see the blood-stained but lovely frame of Leliana before him. For a brink of a moment his stern expression softened as he gazed at her in her Chantry robe. She has always looked so endearing in it, that he never had bothered to buy her _other_ clothes...or armor.

It would have been a waste.

"I hope you know what you are doing..." Leliana lowered her gaze," ...and that your plan will work."

The Warden-commander looked at her, eyes sparking confidence. "It will work. The golem's and werewolves are strong allies. I haven't slaughtered an entire Dalish clan for nothing. We do what we have to do, and everyone is standing up and fights for Ferelden. Even Arl Howe is defending his city now. A good, _honest_ man."

"But...but – " Leliana stammered, concern grazing her features.

He interrupted her, voice soft. "You worry too much. It will be _glorious_." To emphasize his last words, he shook his head. "Also I have Barkspawn and Morrigan coming with me. So trust me, we can't lose."

Behind Leliana, the wickedly snickering witch suddenly made her appearance. "Oh, 'tis going to be amusing; funny even." Morrigan tried to suppress another fit of laughter ripping through her, but failed as her eyes catch the odd couple in front of her. _Hilarious_.

While ignoring Morrigan's insane, now unconstrained giggling in the background, he stepped forward to the bard, embracing her. "Take care," he whispered and kissed he –

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"AAAARGH!"

A brief but loud scream hollered through Arl Eamon's estate, tearing the stillness of the night apart for a moment. Alistair jolted upright in his bed, his breath ragged and blinked, profoundly confused. He struggled to focus his eyes in the darkness of this room, his mind racing with the difficulty to distinguish of dream and reality. One sweated palm was rubbing his face in the need to get rid of those previous, disturbing pictures, but didn't succeed completely. _It has been a dream, right? _He was still utterly bewildered.

_**He**__ being the last Warden? Leader? Even Warden-__**king**__? Andraste's ass..._

_Last Warden..._

These two words haunted Alistair, somehow didn't let him out of its grasp. The unoccupied hand checked the other side of the bed, and found it empty where _she_ should lie by now. Where she had_ been_ before. He felt like an utter delirious and complete fool for letting a dream get so under his skin, but it felt so...so bizarrely _real_.

Alistair took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind. It was senseless. He needed to find her now, seeing that everything was okay. Clinging to that thought, the young man crawled out of the bed and stumbled towards the door in total darkness.

Alistair opened the door a crack, peeked out of it and found the long hall of the estate empty. With more courage now, he stepped outside his room, completely disregarding the improper clothing in form of only his underwear. The Warden saw a sheen of light illuminating the floor afar and distantly could hear a female voice whispering, but couldn't make out to whom it belonged. Like a moth to the flame he was lured to the trace of light, in the hope to find her there. The voice intensified in volume and was more like a laughing as he came closer.

"I suppose, I should go back." Alistair's heart skipped a beat by recognizing the voice. "Good night, Leliana."

It was her, his fellow Warden. His love. Alistair accelerated his pace as her small, lithe frame appeared in his sight for a moment, before it was melting within the darkness again.

"Good night, Lenya," Leliana called after her, and the bard's voice let him froze for a second, the pictures of the dream all still too apparent._ Ugh_. He liked Leliana, but not and _never_ in _this_ kind of way.

_Grotesque, bad dre-_

"Ouch." Lenya bumped into something, she knew hadn't been _there_ on her way before. Although it wasn't a wall or object... _rather a person_, how her mind affirmed – a very _familiar_ person. She would recognize his form, the curve of his muscles even in the bleakest night. "Alist-" the elf's voice was cut off by his sudden, tight embrace.

Before he could fathom what he was doing, Alistair held her in his arms. He pressed her against his chest in the need of feeling her presence, buried his face in the crook of her neck and sighed in relief at the familiar scent of her hair and skin. Stupid, stupid idiot he was to let a dream unsettling him so.

Lenya needed a moment to shook off the utter surprise of his assault, and eventually relaxed in these well-known arms. After a short while of total tranquility with neither of them even moving, she couldn't suppress the chuckle anymore that urged to come up her throat.

"Missed me _soo_ much, I take it?"

Alistair released her out of his embrace a bit and stepped back, his fingers still grasping the backside of the light tunic, she was wearing. "I...uh...sorry. Didn't want to scare you."

Her green eyes gleamed faintly in the sheen of light behind them, amused. "I don't mind if you _scare_ me like _that. _Bad dreams, huh?"

He was too distracted of her hands which were affectionately brushing over his bare back to form an actual sentence, so he simply nodded.

"Darkspawn?"

Now it was Alistair's turn to chuckle. "I fear, it was worse. I was _leading._"

"Well," Lenya smirked as she looked down at him, "that would explain the no pants part at least. Not that I would mind, either."

"That? Oh. I knew I have forgotten something as I stumbled out of my room."

"So a dream where you was leading? Care to fill me in? Sounds like an interesting good-night-story." She took his hand and dragged him toward the door of their room.

"More a bizarre one, really. I was the last Warden, leading an army of werwolves and golems to the siege against the archdemon in Denerim. And Morrigan was constantly _giggling_. I can't even say which part was _more_ disturbing."

Lenya fell silent for a moment as she processed his words. "Morrigan... giggling? Golem's? Last Warden? Oh, wooow...err... interesting. " She blinked."…Wait... did you say _werewolves_? Your dream version sided _with_ the _werewolves_? Against _my_ people? Creators, where did you hit your head?" Still shaking her head in a mixture of disbelief and amusement, the Dalish woman went to light a candle and shut the door behind them.

Alistair sighed."I wish I knew. It was like watching a grotesque version of myself." He lowered his voice to a deep tone. "_Bizarro- Alistair,_ _that's me_. _King_ of the Warden." He walked over to her and pulled her back into his arms. "And when I woke up – more than mildly confused – you weren't there..." He gently traced the line of her jaw down with kisses, eliciting a single content, trembling sigh from her lips.

"Because I couldn't sleep, sorry." She looked up to him."All this landsmeet stuff is killing me. I will never get the shemlen politics. It's really annoying," Lenya groaned." I didn't want to disturb your sleep when I got up, so silently sneaked out of our room. While ambling over the floor, I met Leliana and got caught up by her in a long, fervid talk about nobles and dresses. And here I thought Eamon's politic lessons were _excruciating_..."

He unintentionally stiffened at the mentioning of the bard's name. "I ...see. Wished you were here, then. It was a really confusing dream. The last Warden...as if you have never existed," Alistair swallowed,"..._alone_ the thought..."

"Hmm," Lenya hummed, distracted by his warmth surrounding her. "I suppose if Duncan hadn't found me in time, _this_ would have happened. I would have succumbed to the taint like..." she faltered for a moment,"...Tamlen."

"Now that is a reassuring thought," he muttered under his breath, instinctively pressing her even closer to his chest.

"But I'm here." The Dalish stretched herself to catch his lips, her fingers caressing the lines of his jaw in a comforting gesture, while kissing him. "It was just a dream, _emma lath,_" she murmured a bit breathless, after pulling away again. Then added, smirking. "The king part, however, is _not_."

Alistair groaned and rolled his eyes so hard, that he was afraid they would get stuck in his skull."Oh Maker, thank you for reminding me on _that_, love."

Lenya grasped his hand to lead him back to their bed and smiled. "Don't worry, we'll work that out, too. You are not alone."

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_**Note for elvish:** Emma lath = my love_


	3. Not alone

_**A/N:** This is actually a scene in chapter 18 in OEAH, but it was somewhat lost in between in the length the chapter was. Also it works better as a stand-alone- snippet, imo. And yes, tis the reason Lenya thinks cats are the reincarnation of Fen'Harel the dread wolf and hates them with a passion, lol.  
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**Not alone**

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"Lenya, you can play in the wood glade but only where we can see you. And don't eat any berries just because they look tasty."

Ashalle watched fondly after the little girl who stormed away, her long blond hair almost swaying in sync with her tripping steps.

Another elven woman came close, observing the little girl in her delighted chase after a butterfly."Isn't she adorable? Her father would have been so proud of her. It's really tragic what happened to him… to our keeper."

"Yes, indeed," Ashalle murmured absently, then turned her head to the Dalish woman from her clan. "I'm just glad she doesn't know. It should stay this way."

Lenya was happy. The sun finally broke through the thick rain clouds and she was allowed to play alone in the wood glade. Like the big girl she already was.

"Butterfly, Butterfly," she sung and followed its unsteady, fluttering path with her eyes, hopping up and down. Suddenly the insect made a turn; its yellow wings carried it deeper into the woods. Without a second thought, the little girl ran after it, the dry branches on the ground faintly crackling under her light steps.

Lenya followed it and saw it land on the hollow trunk of a tree near a massive, towering, green-leafed oak. She decided to inch a bit closer, so she could observe it. Lenya loved butterflies after all.

Gingerly, the girl sneaked closer to the trunk… how a grown up hunter showed her, always afraid of scaring it away. Proud of herself, she squatted down after she managed to come closer and was gazing at the delicate, yellow wings of it. Bound to the curiosity of wanting to know how it felt to touch those, the young girl reached her hand out to the butterfly. Just a moment later, she saw how that motion made him fly away. It drifted high up into the sky and passed the coppice of the wood until it was gone.

She pouted as her big, green eyes followed the insect on its way to the sky. Now she didn't have anyone to play with and Ashalle was still busy with boring, grown-up things she didn't understand. A rustling of branches let her eyes dart in the direction she heard the surprising noise in the otherwise quiet and peaceful forest.

Lenya startled. Two yellow eyes of a strange animal were staring directly at her. She knew a lot of animals but never had she seen **such **a creature before. With a mixture of curiosity and fear, she slowly inched closer to observe it; the animal didn't back away. It wasn't huge; it had black velvety fur, two little pointy ears and a tail. Aside from its gleaming yellow eyes, Lenya thought that it was an animal she didn't have to be afraid of. Unlike the wolves, which looked a bit similar and yet so... different. She could feel her heart beating with excitement as she was really close to the calmly waiting animal. Lenya bowed down to it and mimicked its comical way of standing on all fours, heedless of the still moist earth. She inched closer, tilted her head, and smiled into the eyes of the animal.

"Will you be my friend? You look nice."

One hand reached out to touch its soft fur, but before she could even touch it, the creature swiped with its paw and scratched her across the cheek with its sharp claw. Then it stormed away, snarling, into the coppice. Lenya fell backward. Shocked, she touched her right cheek and noticed it was bleeding.

Burning and bleeding.

Tears welled into her eyes and ran down her face, which only made the deep scratch burn more. Still sitting on the ground, she started to sob bitterly. She should have never run so deep into the wood glade. 'Now Ashalle will be mad with me for running away...' Lenya thought, '...and won't love me anymore.' Another sob rippled through her throat and tears were flowing fluently now. 'No one ever wants to play with me.'

She didn't know for how long she sat there and cried, as she suddenly heard a boyish voice.

"What are you doing here?"

Lenya wanted to look up to him, but tears were blinding her eyes, so she couldn't see to whom the voice belonged. "There... there... w-was an evil anim... animal..." the little girl tried to explain between the sobs, still covering her face.

"You mean the black one?" She only nodded.

"It is called cat. I have seen it here a few times. The keeper said that there are sometimes animals of the shemlen strolling around in the forest. It probably ran away from them." He looked down and frowned. "Hey, you are bleeding?" The boy rummaged in his pocket and put a slight dirtied handkerchief forward. He bowed down to the still crying girl. "Take this."

Lenya stopped crying and wiped the tears and blood off of her face with it. Now she could finally see the owner of the voice. It was a young boy, only a bit taller than he,r and he had short, tousled, ash-blond hair. Lenya knew him. He was one of her clan, but she always thought he was stupid and had ignored him because he was a boy. Every girl knew that boys were dumb... though maybe she had been wrong.

"Ma serannas." The girl winced as she pressed the cloth on the scratch. She didn't like cats, not at all... but the boy seemed to be nice. "What is your name?"

"Tamlen. I'm already six years old and will be a great hunter one day. That is why I was hunting animals here," he declared proudly and helped her up. "I know you a bit... but I don't know your name."

"I'm Lenya," she sniffled, "... and four years old but I'm already a big girl. Ashalle said that."

"Lenya? That is a nice name..."

She smiled and ignored her burning and bleeding cheek. Suddenly, it wasn't that bad anymore. "Will you be my friend?"

Tamlen smiled back and reached her his hand. "Let's go back."


	4. Everything

_**A/N**: Ah well, my version here of Alistair is a more 'grown up' one. Especially at that point of the game, he had already matured a lot. Warning this is not a happy fluffy story, given to the nature of the prompt. Not. At. All. And yes, long prompt is long. _

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**Prompt**: _Everyone has a dark(er) side. Courtesy by me for it, heh._

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**Everything**

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"I fear, I made a terrible mistake, Eamon."

Breathless, Anora barged into the room, Eamon and Alistair were waiting for their return from the Arl's estate.

Alistair narrowed his eyes, observing the play of concern and shock on the queen's face. It _seemed_ genuine but with a woman perfectly capable to mask her true feelings and intentions, he never could know. Not to mention that he didn't trust her one bit.

"Why do I have the feeling we are _not_ talking about your misfitting armor here?" he growled, already fearing the answer.

The queen drew a breath in to answer but was disrupted by the other people entering the room. Zevran, Oghren, Morrigan and...Erlina, the queen's personal elven servant followed her into Eamons study – all more or less covered by blood and gore – ...but there was no Lenya in sight.

Alistair waited a moment longer, his eyes transfixed at the door, hoping, _praying_ for her to follow, but the Dalish remained missing. His posture tensed and his armored fist clenched and unclenched, fighting with the urge to strangle that woman in an instant.

"By Andraste's name, Anora– " Eamon started, but Alistair was interrupting him.

"What? WHAT is it you have done, Anora?" he screamed, his nostril flaring as he glowered spiteful down at the queen.

Her eyes lowered, avoiding the furious look Alistair threw her. "The Warden, she has been...captured."

That was it. The final straw.

He was going to _kill_ her.

It took Alistair all his constraint to not immediately fulfill this threat, his body shook with the effort of it. "And this _may have_ been your fault? _Maybe_? _**Perhaps**_?"

Morrigan's yellow eyes fixed Anora with a glare. "Oh, 'tis a curious thing, we just met and she already betrayed us. You and my mother, you would have got along famously, that's for sure."

"What?" Eamon was shocked. "How could that happen?"

"You know," Zevran piped up, his tone disdainful, "...I still search for a reason to not to slit her throat and toss her in the river. I have found none yet."

"The reason..." Anora's voice uncharacteristically trembled "...is not important anymore. The question is how to free her. Cauthrien has brought her to Fort Drakon and getting her out there, will be no small feat."

_Fort Drakon..._ alone the thought of Lenya being confined in the prison that had the reputation to torture their prisoner ruthlessly, that she was there all alone and at the mercy of the guards there drove Alistair insane.

"I'll go!" His head snapped to Anora, his tone calm, but menacing at the same time. "And I swear by the Maker should _anything_ have happened to her, then I will make you _regret_ it all your life! _This_ I promise you, _my queen_." Anora winced shortly at the force in his voice, yet she remained defiantly in her place, apparently unperturbed.

"Alistair," Arl Eamon objected strongly. "We cannot risk your life so easily. You are an heir to the throne."

He whirled around to his foster father, the tone equally angry. "But we can _easily_ risk _her_ life? Right? Is less worth than mine because she is an _elf? _Must be convenient for you that she is out of the picture now, huh?"

Eamon blinked several times until he managed to regain his countenance. He knew that Alistair had feelings for his fellow Warden. He had even tried to talk him out of that relationship with her several times before, because he knew that the landsmeet would never approve of an entanglement with an elf, should Alistair become king. Though just like his father, that boy ceased to listen when it came to the matter of heart.

"I never meant that, Alistair, yet you must listen to reason. You can't run into Fort Drakon just like that, they will capture you too. And as an heir to the throne, you must think on the duty you have for the people of Ferelden!"

"Fuck that, Eamon," he answered coldly. "I have the sodding duty to get her out of there, _right now_. Nothing else. So I'm going!" With that he stormed out of the room, into the direction of his own one, to get his weapon and shield.

If needed he would storm Fort Drakon all alone. He would do e_verything,_ just to get her out of there.

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"My dear Alistair," Zevran appeared in his room, leaning his lithe form on the frame of the door, "might I ask of your plan to rescue our beloved Warden?"

He looked up from fastening the straps of his greaves. "Plan?"

The elf twirled with one of his daggers, his whole body was still bloodied from the prior task."Yes, I fear we will need one, lest we also end in a cell like her."

Alistair winced at the word _'cell'_ and looked straight at him. "I... need to get her out of there, as fast as possible. Who knows what –" his voice broke and he swallowed hard. "I should have been with her in the first place, I shouldn't have let her go there alone, he added quietly after a while and buried his head into his hands.

Zevran frowned. "She had protected us with yielding to Cauthrien after that snake of a politician sold her out to Loghain's second to save her own skin. I was against Lenya's idea to simply give up like that from the start and would have gladly given _everything_ to spare her from that fate."

"I know. I-it's not your fault, Zev."

_It's my fault. I wasn't there, when it was needed most. I'm not with her right now. _

"It isn't yours either," he said, as if reading Alistair's mind. "You just respected her wish to stay behind. So we were discussing the plan, if I remember correctly. It is a matter of course that I will accompany you for that task."

Alistair stood up from the bed he was sitting onto, feeling a pang of pain as he saw one of her tunics lying next to him. "I – haven't given that much thought, to be honest. " He secured his weapon and shield on his back."I just need to get her out of there, no matter the cost."

The elf smirked, apparently unsurprised of his confession. "So we are simply storming the seemingly impregnable stronghold to rescue the beautiful lady within, while slaughtering everything in our way? Ahh, this reminds me of the one time – "

"Zevran!" The Warden exhorted him to focus again.

"Yes, yes, okay, another time then," he chuckled shortly, then his eyes darkened. "Believe me, I know what is at stake. We will get her out of there. No matter the cost." The elf whirled around to leave, but then stopped once more, without to turn around to him.

"You might want to take Wynne with us, my dear Alistair. Healing magic will probably much needed when we have reached her."

"I –" His voice faltered and he took a long shaky breath. "I think so too."

.

.

* * *

.

"Broma- brothers, huh? So _that_ were those ridiculous costumes for?" Alistair raised an eyebrow, still feeling the blood pumping through his veins from the prior fight.

"Tehee, stop browning your pants, pike twirler. It had worked after all." Oghren pointed at Zevran who was wearing the same set of artist clothes and then on himself again. "With me being the pretty one, of course."

"I told you my dear Warden that we needed a plan to enter Fort Drakon." Zevran said, while getting rid of the now bloodied, partly shredded clothes for the leather armor underneath. They were deep into the heart of the prison now and a disguise had become useless anyway.

"And that was the quickest I could come up with," he continued and sheathed his daggers again. "Thankfully those guards were too shocked of Oghren's appearance to question our heritage any longer, nor recognizing waving the two of you through. Perfect. Though as we have seen, it won't be that easy anymore." Zevran looked down at the corpses around them." The guards are at alert here."

Alistair narrowed his eyes and didn't even bother to put his sword back in place. "I don't care. If it means to kill those guards to get through to Lenya, then I'll do just that."

Wynne nodded."The cells are down the stairs, Alistair."

"What makes you so certain of that?" Fort Drakon was a dark, depressing place, but most of all huge and confusing.

She knitted her brows in concern."The screams of pain and agony coming from there are hard to ignore." The elder mage noticed how he tensed at that, so she added. "Don't worry, Alistair. We will find her in time."

Wynne, however, struggled to believe that herself.

.

.

* * *

.

"So that _is_ the Warden, Loghain is so afraid of?"

The broad-shouldered guard tilted his head and looked down at her, towering over the tiny, bruised figure on the ground in the cell. Lenya had ceased to struggle by now, knowing it was forsaken against the much stronger group of shemlen. She had curled herself into a little ball and endured their blows with muted silence, too defiant to give them this last piece of triumph, and at the same time already too weak to do so.

"Funny, without her armor and weapons she just looks like every elven slut. Except for that fancy tattoo on her back. What is up with that, eh?"

Another kick right into her side followed.

Even through the daze of the pain, she heard a rib cracking. Another one. At some point, she had stopped counting the amount of her broken bones. The following jolt of fierce pain let the Dalish contorting and she coughed up blood, each gasp for air almost too agonizing to take.

Blood was good, it meant it would be over soon. She only hoped oblivion would claim her soon.

_And here I thought the Deep Roads is the worst place I have ever seen. _

"Stop that you idiot, you are killing her." The other, shorter guard aside him bellowed.

_How wrong I was. _

He shook his head, bemused. "Isn't that the whole point on that beating?"

_At least darkspawn simply kill their prey._

The shorter guard bared his rotten teeth. "Yes, but it would be a waste, don't you think?"

_They are more merciful than these shemlen. _

_._

_.  
_

_

* * *

.  
_

As Alistair barged into the last vast hall left, he could discern a couple of distant voices and laughter. The Warden briefly stopped as his blood hummed with a well-known presence, which got stronger with each step farther within.

"She is here."

"How do you know?" Zevran queried, his eyes roaming over the dimly lit and filthy area, suddenly seeing approaching shadows of a group on the wall, that wasn't their own. "Alright, never mind, it seems like we get company. We'll handle that Alistair, go and get her out of here." With that, the elf whirled around and ran toward the group of guards, with his daggers raised for a deathly dance.

Alistair only nodded, while running straight forward to the source of the humming, to her. Without to stop he ran one of them through, seizing the momentum of his speed to discard this bothering guard like a puppet. With each step he hurried forward, the voices got louder, its origin from a cell to his left.

"Oh, you certainly will enjoy that, you knife eared bitch."

Alistair run toward said cell and momentarily froze at the sight before him. Lenya lay there on the filthy, bloodied ground, almost lifelessly, her body thoroughly bruised and battered. One of the guards towered over her naked form, and was still occupied with discarding parts of his cheap armor. Eventually the small group noticed the new arrival and briefly halted their activities.

"Who are you?"

Instead to answer, the Warden roared with anger and raw hatred as he charged forward and gutted the next best guard in reach. A satisfying feeling filled Alistair, as he twisted his blade within the man's innards and kicked the lifeless form away to kill the next aside him.

The last remaining guard however, the broad-shouldered man that had towered over the body of his beloved, cowered now in the corner and whimpered plaintive words of mercy and forgiveness.

Normally such words would have urged the Warden to stop, but the things they had done to the woman he loved had been too gruesome for that.

There was no mercy.

Driven by the sheer yearning for revenge, Alistair forcefully groped the guard by his scalp and started bashing his head against the iron bars of the cell.

"GET. YOUR. HANDS. OFF. FROM. HER!" the Warden screamed, each word punctuated with a bash against the bars, that was accompanied by a satisfying crunching sound of his bones.

Discarding the lifeless body to the side, Alistair trembled vigorously, his shield in the other hand fell to the side and resounded with a loud clattering on the floor. That noise shook him back to senses and his head snapped into the direction where the elf still was lying rigidly on the ground.

_Oh please Maker, no..._

He crawled over to her, too appalled of her battered state he didn't dare to touch her. Just a finger grazed slightly her swollen cheek, only to instantly withdraw again. Tears were blurring his vision.

"Lenya?"

No answer.

"I'm here now, love." Trembling, he bent down to her face, planting a chaste kiss on her tattooed forehead. His tears wetted her cheeks, eliciting a single pained whimpering from her.

"Shh, no one is going to hurt you anymore."

It broke him to have to see her like that, so wounded, vulnerable, only a shadow of the strong and independent woman she usually was.

_It is my fault..._

"Wynne!" Alistair cried out,"Wynne, heal her. Help her! Please."

"Oh Maker..." Wynne breathed shocked at the sight of the Dalish, as she entered the cell. Immediately the mage cast a healing spell that washed over her motionless body, mending the worst of her injuries, but by far not all.

Now daring to touch her, he gingerly put Lenya into his lap, caressing the lines of her partly still swollen face with his bare fingertips.

Confused by the _impossible_ feeling of warmth and safety, the Dalish stirred...and gazed right into the face of her fellow Warden.

She knitted her brows and winced at the motion. "Alistair?"

He nodded, forcing a smile that was obscured by the tears still running down his bloodied cheeks. "You are save now, love. I just wish I had come sooner. If only..."

Her hand reached out for him, touching his wet cheek. "You _are_ here, _emma lath._ I always have hoped – " she halted, turning her head scared to both sides. "What about those shemlen guards?"

Alistair's expression darkened, his tone a low growl. "I killed them. I killed them all."

Lenya sighed relieved. "Good."

* * *

_**A/N:** And now excuse me, I have to curl into a ball and think on little puppies while humming peaceful and fluffy children songs. Review please. _


	5. Comfortable Illusion

_**A/N**: Shameless fluff but reasonable in a whole, I think. Hope you enjoy. Since I'm an impatient woman, it is unbeta-d. Oh teh horrorz :P  
_

_

* * *

**Prompt:** What if Alistair met Duncan in the Fade?_

* * *

**Comfortable Illusion**

.  
Lenya hated the fade.

Every second she was captured within this weird ass dimension, was one second too much in her opinion.

Not to mention that the endless shape-shifting, the running around and darkspawn and demon slaying were adding greatly to her aversion of the fade. The crap she had to endure here was all due to that sloth demon they had met in the circle tower and trapped them here in that annoying place.

Oh how she wanted to hack that rotten Sloth Demon into million little bloody pieces for that. Alas that cowardly bastard hid behind illusions and lower demon servants and wasn't that easy to slay as Lenya wished it to be.

She huffed. How could it dare trying to lure her with the image of her best friend Tamlen? Even if she _yearned_ to see him and wished nothing more than him to be okay, the Dalish _knew_ that it was nothing _but_ an illusion. A comfortable lie, that should have lured her into the Sloth Demon's trap of complacency.

It didn't work as intended.

Seeing the Demon-Tamlen letting Lenya unable to breathe for a long moment and the feeling of guilt multiplied by a thousand within her. But then raw anger settled in and the Dalish slaughtered the impersonating demon with furious strikes of her blades, leaving her hurt and vulnerable as it was done.

She hated it, like every other bit of this place.

Lenya had always failed to realize before, that she never had been alone since Ostagar and yet in the fade this feeling of being lost and loneliness didn't want to cease anymore. She was all alone here and missed her companions, even the stupid chattering of her fellow Warden. Maybe especially _that_, because it distracted her from the darker thoughts it was all too easy to get drown into, while being alone.

_Me? Missing Alistair?_ Lenya shook her head and laughed in disbelief. _Impossible._

It was however time to find him and the others, then kill the demon and quickly leave that dreaded place behind.

.

.

* * *

That odd teleporter thing brought the Dalish to a location that looked like a.._.fortress?_

The white stone walls towered high in the fade sky and looked as majestic as the ruins Lenya had seen in Ostagar so long ago. With the only difference that this impressive building wasn't destroyed and shone in its whole splendor. Cautiously, the elf stepped closer, not trusting the image before her eyes.

The illusion of Tamlen had started similar, the demon had created a likely scenery for its deception. Maybe this was a dream of one of her companions? If so, he or she would be doubtlessly caught within, not knowing it was only an illusion bubble ready to burst.

Suddenly she perceived a figure moving within these halls, the huge, bulky frame was unmistakably her fellow Warden.

"Alistair!"

Before Lenya knew what she was doing, she was running toward him, embracing him in an impulse of relief.

_I'm not alone..._

Alistair needed a moment to realize what had happened, but then surrendered _gladly_ to the elf's surprising embrace. Oh, how he _always_ had wished that to happen and now she was _here_, her arms slung around _his_ neck. His heart underneath the breastplate changed into a more frantic beat and he wished nothing more than to hold her forever this way. "Lenya..." he murmured into her ear and breathed in her scent.

Unfortunately, broke uttering her name whatever spell she was under and the Dalish quickly backed away and frowned at him. "You idiot. I was worried, you know." She blinked, confused by her own words, that simply blurted out of her mouth.

_Wait...did I say **worried?**_

"I...sorry?" He offered and smiled apologetic at her.

_She...cares about me?_

It was hard for him to comprehend this new discovery, yet it made his heart even beat faster than before.

"I'm glad that you are here now, Lenya, You have arrived just in time."

The Dalish raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Uh-huh, yeah right. And for what exactly?"

Unbidden, he took her hand, leading her farther into the fortress. "To celebrate our victory."

"And what did we win? Sten's cookies?"

A dark chuckle reverberated behind the both Wardens. "An interesting guest you have there, Alistair."

Lenya's eyes widened. Wait, she _knew_ that voice somehow...but from _where?_

She heard Alistair laughing. " That she is indeed, Duncan."

_Oh, no._

She closed her eyes, swallowing hard. That was Alistair's dream. Of course he would get caught in an illusion of Duncan. As far the Dalish could understand it, Duncan and all the other Grey Wardens had been Alistair's clan...and he had lost them all. Like she had lost her own one, as well.

"Welcome back, sister," Fade-Duncan continued and briefly bowed down to her. Lenya was eying the demons disguise with a mixture of disgust and fascination. As far she could remember the human, it was a perfect copy of him. The dark beard, the calm voice and those grey eyes that looked at her in a warm fashion. Yet was _something_ amiss, but the elf couldn't put the finger on _what_ it was.

"I'm glad you have decided to return to us right in time. We were about to celebrate our victory over the darkspawn."

"Well I don't want to piss in your brew, how Oghren would say, but I justly fought against some of them, _'Duncan._' And they were as stinky and growling as ever."

Lenya groaned. "Come to think of it, even in the damn fade I don't get a sodding break from them." She rolled her eyes."Wonderful, huh?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Lenya but the darkspawn are no more," Alistair exclaimed happily. "We have won the war at last!"

Her head snapped toward him in anger for believing such utter idiocy, but then she saw the expression in his face and her anger veiled, quickly shifted into something akin to ... _regret?_ The elf couldn't exactly fathom the feeling within her, Lenya only knew that in all the months she had been traveling with Alistair, she had never seen him so _happy_ before.

And her task was now to _destroy_ the illusion her fellow Warden was so _content_ with. A part of her felt a pang of remorse for doing that, but the other one wanted to drag him out of there and _slap_ him _silly_ until he noticed that this Duncan was _nothing more_ than a demon _tricking_ him.

Either part within her was wrestling for dominance right now, so she settled for a simple "We need to talk, Alistair" and shoved him aside, away from 'Duncan.'

He flashed her a brilliant smile. "Of course, my lady!"

For a moment he got lost within her eyes, captured by its intense green color. Her blond hair was all disheveled, several strands of it were falling wildly into her face...and he _liked _it. To him the Dalish looked most lovely right now and it was somewhat hard to concentrate on her words altogether. Fortunately, he had grasped a few words of what she had said.

"The Circle Tower? I don't know what you are talking about...this is the Weisshaupt Fortress, Lenya. Sometimes you are talking funny, really." Still in a bold and giddy mood, he cupped her chin in his fingers to make her look up to him again. "But I even _like _that."

Alistair looked at her in a way that simultaneously confused and infuriated her.

_That idiot didn't understand a word I said._

She sighed. "Oh great. Is today moron day in the fade and you decided to participate?"

Lenya took a deep breath and tried to calm those agitated emotions down, before she took a new attempt to convince him. "Look Alistair, that here is _not_ Weisshaupt, whatever _that_ is, however. We are in the fade and this all is just an illusion of your mind, or rather some demon created."

Alistair only laughed anew. "And you are doing it _again_, Lenya. Funny, is that payback for all my jokes now?"

She scowled at him for that, growing incredibly angry as her patience for him was running thin. _Okay, breathe.._."Fade. Demon. Illusion," she pressed out in a growl and glared at him.

"Now this joke is getting old, Lenya."

"You...argh...idiot!" Angrily, Lenya whirled around to the other 'person' present and grope him...it... at the collar." I'm tired of your stupid games, demon. Release him at the instant. NOW!"

Duncan only looked at her confused. "I don't know what you are talking about, sister. We should sing and rejoice in the great victory we have achieved, instead to fight over such trivialities."

"Keeping your role up until the end, eh? Such wasted determination, really. News to you, it isn't working with me, _bastard_," she spat into its direction and turned to Alistair." It is hurtful to admit, but the _real_ Duncan _died_ in Ostagar...and you know it. So stop being an utter fool for once and snap out of this bad created illusion. It _isn't_ real, Alistair!"

He paused for a long while, bit his lip and then quietly uttered. " I know _that_ already."

Lenya stared at him, blinked and stared some more. "You...WHAT? How? Why?"

"You fools. I offered peace and all you are interested in is death and war. So be it, " Demon-Duncan snarled and shifted into its real, abhorrent form. Alistair quickly drew his weapon and readied his shield and hurried on the side of his fellow Warden.

The fight didn't last long, because the Dalish had used all her stored anger within to vent it on the demonic creature, hacking it apart in swiftly attacks with her blades.

Looking down on what was left of the demon, Alistair sighed. "I think I owe you an explanation."

She was still breathing heavily from the fight. "You indeed do. It is better a good one or the _slapping_ part of me will win over _soon_."

"Your..._what?_ Okay, well," Alistair fidgeted nervously with his gloved fingers. "...it _is_ stupid, I know... but a part of me wished that illusion to be _real_. I was simply so happy to see Duncan again that the other realistic part of me was willing to ignore that it was just a deception of my mind, created by a demon."

Lenya smirked. "You have a _realistic_ part?"

He returned the playful smile. "Odd, I know." Then the smile faded and the prior sadness returned into his expression. "I'm sorry for deceiving you like that, though. I _never_ would have thought you would come for me, and yet _here_ you are. You could have turned around and leave me be, but you _never_ gave up to convince me. " He blushed slightly, the warm of his face urged him to look away. " I think I should thank you for coming for me and for being my fellow Warden."

She shook her head and smiled at him. "Idiot." Then reached him her hand. "Come on, puppy. We have to kick some demon asses."

"Yeah, because hacking demons into million little pieces surely tops every comfortable illusion by a mile. Is it ritual dismemberment Tuesday already again?" Alistair jested and then took her much smaller hand to leave this place of false illusions behind.

One thought accompanied him on their way out.

_I don't need illusions. I'm not alone anymore..._

_

* * *

**A/N: **I actually intended to let it end on a lot more darker note but then the characters came, slapped my across the face and demanded shameless fluff..so yeah. Review please, if you liked it...or not ;)  
_


	6. Love

_**A/N:** Just a little snippet taken from my main story, which my readers of OEaH will already know. (Sorry if you got excited seeing an update) But (understandably) not everyone is brave enough to read this 300k word beast of mine. So here for your enjoyment this snippet of Alistair introspective, which I heart very much. It can stand on its own very good as well. Have fun. _

* * *

**Love**

.

Love was, by all means, a_ funny_ feeling.

Not that Alistair had been able to wrap his mind around the fact of actually _being in love_, even hours after the sparring with Lenya it still seemed surreal to him. And… it probably would stay that way for a long time.

Alistair felt... _overwhelmed_ by something that had been completely alien to him until a few hours ago, and was now even_ more_ alien _after_ his realization. He didn't know how to handle all these feelings now raving through him, and since they were no longer restrained within, wasn't even sure if he wanted all of that. In fact, he had never expected it to happen to _him_, the unwanted bastard son of a king. And now, where it was undeniably _there, _he didn't know what to make of it or where to go from here.

Love was maddening... and utterly confusing on top of that.

Alistair had done many stupid things in his life before, yet falling in love with his fellow Warden who, as a Dalish, clearly didn't like humans much, easily topped them all. And all he could do was to helplessly watch the unfolding disaster, with him, the sudden lovestruck fool, as the main character. Looking at her was not the same anymore. It had gained a new, complicated weight of entrancement he felt at her view, so he tried to avoid staring at her like the idiot he felt like.

Not that it would stop those feelings, oh _no_, they were a delirious rapture, a distractive force that made it nearly impossible to focus on other things that were not _Lenya. _Thoughts other than about her were practically non-existent in his head right now, and if someone would put him in a corner where he could just _be_ and think about her for hours, he would be a happy man.

Which was scary, in a way.

Even more appalling was how love took his little world, turned it upside down and made _her_ the center of it. How could that happen all the sudden? It wasn't that there something had changed, since _everything_ was still the same. Well, everyone _but_ him.

There were no bards popping out from somewhere and singing serenades about love or rainbows filling the sky all the sudden. In fact, it was nothing like Alistair had _expected_ it to be, remembering those cheesy books hidden in the corners of the Chantry's library that he had... _found._ Life was going on as it did, just threaded with a whole lot more... _intricacies _that hadn't been there before_._

Complications that he didn't need while fighting a Blight, objectively seen. Duncan had always warned him, told him that duty always comes first for a Grey Warden. That there was no room for personal feelings, and those would only hinder a Grey Warden in fulfilling said important duty. Alistair valued those words of his mentor highly, of course, and saw the truth in them, because love made everything only needlessly _difficult_. And yet, having _those_ feelings, while maddening and frustratingly confusing, was an experience he already didn't want to _miss_ anymore.

He was in love. In _love_. Alone, this fact was astonishing enough to keep him in a state of awe for a long time. Hopefully long _enough, _though, so that he'd have the needed time to figure out where to go from here.

"Alistair? Alistair!"

He blinked at the sound of his name, noticing that he had been staring into his bowl of oat porridge for Maker-knew how long.

_Great._

Finally heaving his head up, he gazed into Leliana's face, who looked back at him with a concerned expression. "Are you okay?"

Alistair needed a moment to remember how to actually speak. "Huh?"

"You are not getting sick, are you?"

_No. I'm just on the brink of insanity... but thanks for asking._

"I'm... okay. Why?"

She knitted her brows in confusion. "Well, your face is all red, and you haven't even touched your meal, after all."

He was..._ what?_ Slightly panicking, Alistair touched his face with his fingers and could feel the burn in his cheeks or rather how it coursed through his whole being.

_Brilliant._

"Oh, no, no. No." Alistair laughed weakly as he demonstratively took the wooden spoon to eat. "See. Totally eating now."

Oghren snorted. "Hah, I bet you are still upset that Missy handed yer ass back to ya, boy. Heh, serves ya right. But thanks to your losing, I have some silver now." The dwarf slipped his flask from his belt to take a long pull and grinned at the Warden as he finished.

"Wow." He arched an eyebrow, and then blinked. "Glad I could help."

Leliana turned to Oghren, incredulous. "You have placed a bet on who would win their sparring?"

"Heh, it was a sodding good idea, I think." The dwarf looked over to him, still grinning. "Lemme know when you both spar again. I can always use some coin."

"Uh-huh." Distracted by laughter that was so clearly _her_, Alistair's focus shifted from the dwarf to what was Lenya's frame almost in an instant. She sat with her back turned to the rest of the group, and was laughing about something Zevran told her. Then, much to his horror and delight, she started to stretch lazily. Her back arched like a bow and lean muscles rolled and flexed under the movement. Shaking her head, her blond hair seemed to shimmer like golden threads in the weak winter sun and he was capable of none but one thought:

_Beautiful._

Not that these things really mattered, she could have a hunched back and buck teeth and she would still be the most beautiful person to him, because it was... _Lenya_. And he could watch her for hours and do little else, which he found kind of creepy as well. He didn't want to gawk into her direction like a drooling lecher, not to mention that it was possibly written on his face now how _much_ her sight thrilled him all the sudden. Alistair blinked and forced his eyes away from her and back to his meal, because it was_ safer _this way.

_Right, oat porridge it is._

But what about when she would decide to come over all the sudden and talk with him? Before his revelation, that thought had been so normal and not threaded with implicitness, and was now absolutely terrifying to him, because she could notice that something had changed,_ smart_ and _witty_ and _wonderful_ like she was. Alistair didn't want that, was too busy figuring out for himself what these feelings meant now and what to do with them, to let her become aware of it.

Or, as in,_ ever_.

Eventually, he would have to talk with her again, being her fellow Warden and all that, but right now he would rather attempt to strangle the archdemon with his bare hands than to try getting anything that resembled coherent words out of his mouth when she was near. It had become confusing enough looking at her when she was _not_ near. And then, much to his horror, Lenya stood up and turned into their, _his_ direction, slowly coming closer, and all he could do is to think how he needed to run away. So Alistair jumped up from his seat, faintly aware of the pair of eyebrows arched at him at that, so he mumbled the first explanation available in his mind, before stalking away.

"I... uh... need a bath. Yes, totally."

_A bath in winter? Right. Thanks, brain. For nothing._

And while he fled away from what was her company, Alistair felt the urge to hit himself for his obvious... _obviousness_. Could he have handled it any worse just now? Well maybe with a sign attached to his forehead with the written letters of "fool in love" and pointing at it while grinning like one at Lenya, but otherwise possibly... not so much.

Maybe he just should dig himself a hole and hide inside of it to wait until this delirious state of insanity called love was over. Or conveniently use the end of this path he currently walked which was the shores of Lake Calenhad and drown himself within its icy water.

Both options would be definitely preferred and easier for him than to deal with the frightening fact of what it actually meant to _be_ in love.

.

.


	7. Romance fail

_**A/N:** Ever wondered why Alistair is the only fitting partner for my Dalish? Well then let me get you the _**"Why other romances never would work out with Lenya" **_- Guide. Brought to you by random silliness and boredom. :p_

* * *

**Tamlen**

**Tamlen:** "Why are we just childhood-friends and not more, like in every other Mahariel story out there?"

**Lenya:** "There are stories? What did I do this time?"

**Tamlen:** "Nothing. But I'm curious. We would be excellent bond-mates, after all."

**Lenya**: *rolls her eyes* "Okay, Tamlen, kiss me."

**Tamlen:** "W-what?"

**Lenya:** "Kiss me! We need to get that out of the way, apparently."

_Tamlen kisses her and it is incredibly awkward._

**Lenya:** "You know now _why?"_

**Tamlen:** "I felt... err...nothing?"

**Lenya:** "Exactly. Now excuse me, I have to wash my mouth."

**Tamlen:** "Sigh."

.

* * *

**Zevran**

**Zevran:** "Want an Antivan massage, my dear Warden?"

**Lenya:** _*glare*_

**Zevran:** "I'm quite ably in that, you know? Dexterous, too."

**Lenya:** _*glare*_

**Zevran:** "Are you not in the slightest curious about the sensual pleasures life has to offer?"

**Lenya:** "No." _*leaves*_

* * *

**Leliana**

**Leliana:** "Oh, I love the way you wear your hair. It is so pretty."

**Lenya:** _*shrugs*_ "It is just...hair. And on my head. Like hair does to do."

**Leliana:** "You should wear it open more often, though. It frames your face just perfectly."

**Lenya:** "It is annoying this way. It falls in my face every single second. Not to mention that it is impossible to fight this way. Maybe I should cut it sh –"

**Leliana, flailing:** "Nooo! Please not."

**Lenya:** "Err...oookay. Seems to be important to you. Why?"

**Leliana:** "Well, It's very nice and it suits you. Simple, not like the elaborate hairstyles we wore in Orlais. They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels. You know, Orlais is very fashionable. Almost ridiculously so. Ahh... but the shoes. Living with those ridiculous trends was worth it for the shoes."

**Lenya, bewildered:** "Shoes?"

**Leliana, gasping:** "Oh, how I love shoes. Shoes are sooo great."

**Lenya, indifferently:** "Yes, they are on my feet. Keeping them warm. Great."

**Leliana:** "Not those mud-covered horrors we wear now. I mean shoes with delicate, tapered heels and embellishments in the front-a ribbon perhaps, or embroidery."

**Lenya:** "Bored now."

**Leliana:** "Aww, we should go shopping together. Yes, _shopping_. I help you to find some beautiful shoes. I think red is just your color."

**Lenya:** "Leaving now."

**Leliana:** "Lenya? H-hello?"

.

* * *

**Anders**

**Anders**: "Hello Commander. It is nice to be under your command as a Grey Warden" *laughs*

**Lenya, sighing:** "What is so funny about that?"

**Anders:** The serving- under your command-part. _Under?" _

**Lenya**:*rolls her eyes*

**Anders: "**No? Aww...okay. My name is Anders, by the way."

**Lenya:** "Yeah I got that. Your name, not your lame sexual innuendo, I mean."

**Anders:** "Ouch. Okay, dully noted. Just a question, Commander. Is it permitted for a Grey Warden to keep pets? I was never allowed to do this in my time in the Mage Tower. Another reason to flee there, I guess."

**Lenya:** "Pets?"

**Anders:** "Yes, this here is mine. Is he not a cute, little kitty?"

**Lenya, horrified:** "K-k-kitty?"

**Anders:** "Yes. Say hello to our Commander, Ser-Pounce-a-lot."

**Ser-Pounce-a-lot:** "Meow."

**Anders:** Commander?... _Commander?_ Strange she had been here just a second ago."

**Ser-Pounce-a-lot:** "Meeeoow?"

.

* * *

**Sten**

**Sten:** "Warden."

**Lenya:** "Sten."

**Sten:** "Warden."

**Lenya:** "Can I have one of your cookies?"

**Sten:** "No." _*leaves*_

**Lenya:** "You are _no_ fun." _*leaves as well*_

.

* * *

**Loghain**

**Loghain:** "Thank you for sparing me. I will do my best under your command."

**Lenya:** *glares* "You cost me Alistair, shem."

**Loghain**: "You can thank me later."

**Lenya:** "I will _so_ feed you to the archdemon."

**Loghain:** "Thought so. How ironic. Do I get a sword at least?"

**Lenya:** "No. You are a strong shem. Use your fists."


	8. Unexpected

_**A/N: **__This isn't exactly *__canon*__ to the events of my main story, but I had this plot nug in my head and it didn't get away until it was written. So yeah, here it is. Set before the events of Ostagar, Alistair-centric. One of the boys, indeed. Heh. Have fun._

* * *

**Unexpected**

Alistair was worried.

It had been weeks since he had last heard of Duncan. He _knew_ it was probably even stupid to be concerned for the leader of a _whole_ order. Duncan was more than an experienced and seasoned Warden, after all. And yet, these long weeks of sitting and waiting had been...unsettling. Duncan had sent the two recruits ahead, Jory and Daveth, who arrived in Ostagar with the information that he would attempt to recruit a third Warden-candidate. Where and who it would be, the both men naturally couldn't say, much to his dismay.

Alistair only hoped, Duncan would make it back in time. The camp had been bustling the last days. More and more troops of the King were arriving from Denerim, uncounted tents had been erected in between the ruins and the tensed atmosphere here gave away that it wasn't long anymore until the battle would start.

He could feel it, of course.

His nights had been more than uneasy in the last past days, the dreams more intense. The darkspawn were drawing closer each moment and it felt as if it was a race against time they couldn't win. At least not without Duncan leading them into battle, that was certain.

He sighed and leaned on the low wall, half sitting, as he watched the group he called family since a few months. It was an exaggerated sentiment on his part, perhaps, but one that he was proud to use.

Family.

This word finally had a meaning for him, now where he was fully accepted within her ranks, being called a brother, even. He stretched his limbs, feeling not completely uncomfortable with the ache burning within. It was a sign that he had seized the day properly and had used every free moment to refine his fighting skills. Maker knew he would need it, when even half of the stories the other Wardens told were true.

Being the junior-member of the order and previously neatly tucked away at their base in Denerim, Alistair had only faced darkspawn once. It had been briefly after his recruitment from the Chantry and nothing what Duncan told him about these creatures could have prepared him for their true horror. Their contorted faces, the stench of rotten flesh and their cold, dead gaze lingered within his mind and dreams even weeks after the encounter. Still there was no place in the world where he would rather be. Alistair took pride in being a Grey Warden. It meant for him to have a place to belong, a _purpose_.

The night was hanging heavy over the Warden's camp, the stars and moon hidden behind a mist of clouds. It did little to damper the spirit, quite the opposite. His fellow Wardens were gathered around a huge bonfire that flickered high and bright. The volume of their tangled voices and laughter as they played cards or were simply drinking was nearly deafening. More observing than partaking, Alistair sat silently amidst them and yet he was equally a part of them.

"Hey, Junior." Hating that nickname, Alistair turned to the source of the voice with an automatic groan. He gazed into the grinning face of Merrik, a guy as big and burly as a tree and sporting the fuzziest beard he had ever seen on a human.

"What?"

The grinning in his face widened. " You are sitting here like a gloomy wife waiting for her husband to return. Why don't you have a bit of fun instead?"

Alistair arched an eyebrow. "I have...fun, you know. Enjoying the company and all that." It wasn't even a lie.

"Suuure." Merrik laughed. "How about enjoying..._real_ company for once. Ostagar is full of women desperate for a last tumble before the battle starts, soldiers and servants alike. Believe me," he laughed again, the sound rumbling and snorting," I _know_."

Not this again. Since Alistair slipped out that he had never been with a woman, his innocence was the main target for mockery of the other Wardens. It was meant all in a friendly, well-intended way, of course, but annoying for him nonetheless. Apparently being a Warden was tantamount to bed as many women possibly for most of his brothers and they somehow expected him to do the same. The one time in Denerim they even tried to shove him into the Pearl, to end this pitiful suffering, like they called it. It was not that Alistair wasn't curious or interested in..._it_, but he rather wanted to wait until he had found the right woman to be with. He was a bit old-fashioned in this perhaps, considering the stance of his brothers. Alistair, however, simply couldn't wrap his mind around the idea to be with a woman he didn't love. No matter what they said.

"How _nice_ for you, Merrik," he finally answered, the roll of his eyes accompanied by an annoyed groan.

He snorted. "Well, Junior, I slowly believe you are a hopeless case. You don't wanna die a virgin, or?"

"Aww, come on, Merrik, give the boy some space," another of the Wardens said behind him and chuckled. "No one's going to die here. He will still have enough time to discover the ...let's say..._wonderful_ side effects of being a Warden."

The others around him burst into a roaring laughter, but the humor was lost on Alistair. He wasn't even sure that he _wanted_ to know its meaning. Shaking his head, he stood up and took a chunk of the bread from the table to chew on it, which was more out of the reason to do _something_ than real hunger.

The burly man turned round to the Warden, a former surfacer dwarf with a typical stout, powerful built, and tsked. "Spoilsport. Just trying to help the boy, right?" The following, friendly pat on Alistair's back was that strong that he nearly suffocated on his bread. He coughed a few times and smiled up to his fellow Warden, if a bit uneasy.

_How very nice that my private life exists to amuse you._

"Heh, right. Just because you jump after every woman who is not fast enough to flee, doesn't mean the boy has to do the same." The dwarf looked over to Alistair. "Better tell me, Junior, who do you think the Commander is going to bring to Ostagar?"

"I don't...know?"

He sighed. "Come on, use your imagination. We are actually betting who is going to be the third recruit. Nothing against Jory or Daveth, but it is about time for another fine dwarven fellow, I say."

"Ooh, Sion, feeling lonely, are you?" Merrik grinned, shaking his head in a mocking way.

Sion shrugged him off. "Naw, I'm just sick of your ugly, human face, that is all." He looked into the round, lips pursed up to a wry smile. "I'm surrounded by it, in fact."

Alistair found himself chuckling at that, knowing well it was intended as a friendly banter and not as a racial slur in the slightest.

"I would love if the recruit is a woman, for a change," Merrik answered.

"Oh, I don't doubt that..." A voice from behind chipped in and earned himself another round of laughter.

Sion shook his head. "I fear you'll have to stick to soldiers and servants for your amusement, because there haven't been a female Warden in ages. They are quite rare, in fact."

"Why is... – " was Alistair about to ask, but got eventually cut off by the loud speculations that now rose in their round.

"I say its one of the Mage's. They are always eager to leave the Tower."

"You would be too, if you were confined there all your life," a lean man in a griffon robe grumbled, actually a mage.

Merrik tilted his head and looked at his fellow Warden. "Touchy, again, Hadrid?" The mage didn't answer, only turned peeved away from the man. "Well, I'm all for another ably warrior," he continued, the grin gave away that he was only half-serious. "Sucks to be the only one here, after all."

In the briefest amount of time, their camp was filled with the wildest speculations. Feeling the exhaustion of the day finally catching up on him, Alistair listened only half to them. According to the words flying around, the recruit would turn out to be a ten-feet tall, axe-swinging giant, who ate children for breakfast and could snap an ogre's neck with just his bare hands. Which was an amusing thought in itself, if not even a very helpful one for the coming battle. They would have indeed use for someone like that, after all.

Chuckling, Alistair stood up from his place, waved them good night to return to his own tent. This talk had made him indeed curious for Duncan's choice, but alas, all he could do is _wait._

_._

_._

* * *

_.  
_

The next morning turned out to be..._unfortunate _for Alistair.

Not only that the dreams had added in intensity, there had been also the Reverend Mother of the Chantry, who appeared in front of his tent, almost as soon he had left it.

"You there, Warden." Her gaze on him was steely, cold and reminded him all too good on his time in the Chantry.

Alistair blinked, still somewhat drugged by sleep. "Eeeer, yes?"

"I need you to deliver a message."

"And you couldn't find – " The glare of the regal, elder woman silenced him. Sighing, he added," Fine, fine, what do you want me to do, your Reverence?"

"Find the mage at the east side of the ruins and tell him that I need to see him. He is there all day, barking at his fellow mages, so you won't miss him."

For a moment, Alistair didn't know what to say, or how to react to this trivial demand, so he simply gawked at her.

The Reverend Mother huffed at his nonplussed reaction. "It is on behalf of your order as well. Otherwise I would not ask a Warden and send a servant instead."

Now he awoke out of his bewilderment, blinked again and nodded. "I...see, your Reverence. I will immediately go, then."

.

~V~

.

Sunken in his thoughts and still somewhat sulking, Alistair strode across the bustling main camp of Ostagar. He of all people should deliver a message from the Chantry to the leader of the mages here. _Brilliant_ idea. That surely would go well.

"Alistair..."

Being so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't notice that someone was calling him, so the person tried anew and louder.

"Alistair!" Now he stopped and turned around to the source of the voice. It was Sion, his fellow Warden, who walked toward him with a big grin in his face. "Hey Junior, have you heard? The Commander has returned."

Alistair was instantly awake and in better mood. " Really? That is great...When?"

"Just a hour ago, I guess. Haven't seen him yet, or the new recruit." He shrugged, almost apologetic. "But he has already caused some good commotion in our camp. Everyone is curious about that new recruit, I can tell."

Alistair chuckled. "So he is no ten-feet tall, axe-swinging, children-eating giant? Aww, I could have sworn that this would be the case. I'm disappointed."

"As said, Junior, I haven't seen the recruit yet. But I've heard it is one of the Dalish, so alas, the giant theory is ruled out," the dwarf said, then a grin snuck into his features." But at least I will be still right with the children-eating-part, heh."

"I think I speak for everyone when I say: _Huh_?"

"Aww, come on, you humans must have heard the stories about Dalish being savage and snatching women and children away, at first hand." He shook his head in mock-shock, grin widened." What, your Chantry doesn't teach that anymore these days? By the stone, what has become of the surface?"

"They still do, my friend, I can assure you," Alistair said with a chuckle. "The years in the Chantry taught me, however, _not_ to listen."

Sion laughed. "Good choice." Turning around to go, he shook his head, amused. "A _Dalish_, I'm sure no one had bet on that. The Commander is always good for a surprise, it seems. Well I'm sure he knows what he is doing. These elves are always well trained in archery, I have heard."

"And...eat children, apparently."

Alistair heard stories about the Dalish, of course. About elves who had secluded themselves from the rest of the society and were believing in gods the Chantry would call sacrilege in best of their time. Of fierce warriors, who painted their faces and loomed in the darkness to kill incautious travelers from a distance with their bows and pinpointed aim.

He wasn't sure what of it was true and what not. Probably a lot of it was legend, whispered by people in fear of the unknown. The Dalish clans lived so secluded from the rest that most people even doubted their existence. And now the third and last recruit was one of them? It was...surprising, but he knew better than to judge Duncan's choice. Or the recruit for that matter. He would be one of them in a short time, a brother. Given the elf would survive the Joining, of course.

"Yeah, right." The dwarf grinned, putting him out of his thoughts. "I think it will be interesting either way. See you later, Junior." With that, his fellow Warden walked away and back into their part of the camp. After watching him leaving, Alistair shook himself and reminded himself that he still had a task to do.

If he wanted or not.

.

~V~

.

Delivering the message to the mage didn't go well. As expected.

In fact, Alistair found himself caught in the middle, even got yelled at for doing as he was told by the Reverend Mother.

_Wonderful. _

Being nerved by the whole affair, he quickly reverted to his most favorite weapon: Sarcasm. "And here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you... the _grumpy_ one."

It didn't miss its intended effect, even seemed to have snapped the final straw of the mage's patience. "Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!"

Alistair watched the man storming off with a huff and couldn't help but to feel...victorious. Grinning, he turned. "It is really great how the Blight brings peo – " He froze in both, motion and words, as he gazed in the face of an elven woman, who observed him with nothing less than disdain.

"Are you an idiot?"

Alistair wasn't sure if that had been a question at all. He couldn't have answered either way, for he found himself shrinking under her icy glare. Dressed in leather armor, she stood in front of him, unyielding and proud, as if _demanding_ an answer to her non-question. As he still couldn't refrain from gaping at her like the idiot she thought him to be, the elf added with an exasperated sigh. "You are that shemlen named Alistair, right? Duncan told me to meet you. Unfortunately, it seems."

"D-Duncan?" Alistair gave in to the urge to blink and his eyelids fluttered even more, as he was putting one and one together. The tattoo in her face, the bold demeanor, the way she was dressed and armed. There would be no axe-wielding giant, nor a fierce, male warrior.

The new Dalish recruit was a _woman_.

.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Lol, Lenya's famous first words to the man she later learns to love. She will never hear the end of it, that is for sure xD Sorry for any grammar mistakes, since this one-shot hasn't gone through Mack's very own beta-school of awesome. This is reserved for my main story, however. Which reminds me to finally go back to that, cough. Thanks for all the feedback for this kinda step-child project of mine here. I really appreciate it. Review?_


	9. Gift

_**A/N: **This is actually the beginning of the actual/newest chapter of OEaH I'm working on. But since I'm not writing atm for various reasons, an update to my main story will take quite a while, still. Sorry. So to compensate that, I thought to release this part as a standalone chapter. Hope you enjoy.  
_

* * *

**Gift**

How could she have forgotten that?

Surrounded by trees already tinged red-golden by the coming autumn, Lenya sat sulking far away from where her clan camped. At the clear and cloudless sky, the sun shone down in warm, bright rays, dappling silently through the colored treetops. The wind caressing around her skin was mild and had a tang of wet earth and moss, whirling some fallen leafs up in the air and pass her.

Lenya had no eyes for the scenery of the clearing, was even ignoring the scurrying squirrels collecting beechnuts right beside her. Biting her lip she was staring out in the wideness of the woods, fretting about her own stupidity.

Albeit her clan was a close-knitted community by default and dear to her heart, Tamlen was together with Ashalle the most important person in her life. She did not love him and never would, at least not how the elders would eventually wish them to bond. Lenya had no interest in Tamlen this way, or love in a whole, for that matter. She couldn't understand how some Dalish women of her clan saw their life fulfilled by bonding with a man and getting his children. Lenya wanted...more of life than just this. Yet Tamlen was special to her, in a way that went way beyond this disgusting kissing that she already had to witness around the other elves in her age. Tamlen was not only her childhood friend, but a brother and partner in crime, who knew everything about her and whom she trusted with every fiber of her being.

And still she had forgotten his birthday.

Lenya had been so wrapped up in her training to finally become a full hunter and to get her own Vallaslin that this day had totally slipped her mind. And therefore, she had no present for him. Given, it was not exactly customary for the Dalish to gift each other something on the day they were born, since it was often hard to determinate the exact day. It was more a very own fashion between the two friends since the day when they were kids, where Tamlen gifted her a basket full of slimy snails on her birthday to scare her. Lenya, however, found it more amusing than scary. So the custom stuck with them each year, as they'd grown up. Except for this year.

Tamlen had smiled and told her it wasn't a big deal, but this only made her feel worse about it. Lenya looked upwards the clear sky and sighed. Doing so, her eyes caught a single rounded fruit hanging high in one of the colored treetops. She had seen such a fruit before, even though it was rare for such trees to grow in these parts of the woods. Standing up, her eyes fixated the red fruit somewhere low beneath the treetop. It was an apple, if she recalled its name correctly.

Once when they were younger, Tamlen and she had found one of these rare apple trees. It was more or less coincidentally, as they were chasing together through the woods, the dried autumn leafs crashing underneath their feet. Justly as Tamlen passed a gnarled, high-arching tree, one of the fruits was falling down, hitting him on the head.

Lenya smiled at the childhood memory, remembering the sweet, juicy taste of the many apples they plucked down and ate after finding out what it was. The one, single fruit seemed to be the first of many of the coming autumn and thus was something special. Suddenly determined to pluck it for Tamlen, Lenya went to the solitary tree, feeling its splinted, rough bark underneath her fingers.

Looking up, her eyes were already searching for a way to reach the apple above and found at in an instant. She had been climbing trees since she was a child, so while the tree was relatively tall, it would be not big of a problem for her to get on the tree and reach the branch in the middle. Lenya climbed the trunk up and always tested if the branches would withhold her weight, before stepping onto it. She moved through the tree with utmost care and speed and finally was able to reach the one branch with the apple. Just as she had plucked the apple and had in her hands, she took a misstep while turning round and slipped from the branch.

Being unable and too sturdy to let go off Tamlen's hard won present, Lenya fell to the ground. Her only thought before her world went black was:_ Hopefully the apple isn't going to smash._

_.  
_

~V~

.

"You stupid, _stupid_ girl. How could you do that?" A voice tugged at the edges of her consciousness, one that she knew all too well. Tamlen. It was taking on a more desperate tone, as she didn't react at first." Creators, wake up please."

Slowly, Lenya opened her eyes, feeling how every bone in her body hurt. She gritted her teeth against the pain and was pleased to notice that the apple was still forcibly clasped in her hand.

"You have been away for hours, so we have been searching you. It is not uncommon for you to disappear like that, I know, still, _something_ got me worried. Call it a feel in my guts. And see, I have good guts." Tamlen prattled on, not knowing what to do but talking with her. He was too afraid to move her, at least before her injuries would be healed.

"Lenya!" The Dalish nearly startled at Marethari's condemning voice." For a _da'len_ so irresponsible, you are quite lucky. Not only that your fall was soften by a bush, your head thankfully missed a sharp stone by an inch." Disapproving, she shook her head and let her healing magic wash over the young elf. " You better thank Mythal for protecting you so well, once you are back in camp." The Keeper stood up without a further word and turned to leave. " I expect you _both_ to return to camp. Quickly. Is that clear?"

Tamlen nodded. "Yes, Keeper."

He noticed the dirty look, Lenya was giving him, once Marethari was gone. "Don't look at me like that, Len. It was not I who fell from a high tree. As you might have seen it was _needed_ to bring the Keeper here." Now where the worst was prevented, a small grin played into his features. "Or should I have brought Merrill, instead?"

Lenya's response was immediate. "Ugh."

Carefully, he helped her up. "Thought so. Still, Len, why by the Creators, did you run away from camp to climb a tree?"

Lenya sighed and lowered her gaze. " I didn't have a present for your birthday. I have...forgotten that. You said it is okay, but it _isn't_." She stretched her arm out, amazed at first that nothing did hurt anymore. "So I got you the fruit, you liked so much when we were young."

Tamlen stared at the apple for a moment, before enclosing her in a cautious, friendly hug. He laughed. "Stupid, irresponsible girl."


	10. Thorns

**A/N: **_Just a little snippet from the upcoming chapter, a teaser if you will :p__ (new chap will be out soon) But this little piece of Alistair introspective can stand on its own, when one know that Alistair is left behind injured in camp after an darkspawn ambush (not Tamlen related) and has a lot of time to think...over things. And since I love to use symbolism... yeah. Also a sort of answer to all critics that say "Lenya is a rude jerkass and it doesn't make sense for him to fall in love with her because he disapproves in the game, when you are not nice to him." Because obviously a character is not allowed to develop **beyond** their initial premise and are not more than just the "trope" they were formed around. Yeah, right... O_o_

_Sorry for grammar mistakes, because I'm german and a hence a part time grammar idiot and this part isn't beta-d yet. Will it replace later with the corrected version. Have fun.  
_

* * *

**Thorns**

Waking up in her tent was _strange_, even more so _within_ her bedroll.

The smell of herbs given to him were overbearing within the tent, yet underneath there was always a faint lingering scent that was so distinguishably _her._ With all of her things and _that_ scent surrounding him, Alistair couldn't help but to feel like an intruder in an area where he not belonged. So he got up and sat now amidst their half-destroyed camp, staring at this very rose that had even withstood an ambush of a full darkspawn horde.

It had fallen out of his backpack, when he'd vainly searched for something edible within. Maker knew, he was _hungry_ and his mended bones still hurt badly, but watching the flower had a soothing, distracting effect on his mind.

Its deep-red petals were slightly pressed flat from being in his pack for so long, but aside of that, it was as beautiful as ever. As if there hadn't been various darkspawn trampled down his tent, nor a massive fight last night. The rose seemed to ignore all obstacles, all difficulties where normal flowers would have withered long ago and was still blooming proudly, almost _defiant_.

_Sturdy little thing._

Alistair smiled.

In more way than one, this flower was reminding him on Lenya. She was with certainty no gentle flower, but a proud, stubborn creature of nature covering herself with thorns, defying all circumstances.

Just like a rose.

Trying to reach out to it might hurt, one could get stung or even bleed at those thorns the rose was protecting herself with. But it was only possible to appreciate its beauty and grace if one would _not_ give up after the first sting of the thorns.

It took him a long time, but he was able to see exactly this beauty of her in all perfect clarity now. And he wouldn't want to have it another way, didn't want to go back to the time where his hands were covered with wounds from desperately trying to reach out to her. From getting stung over and over again with her thorns, because she hadn't trust him enough to let him see her real beauty that lay beneath her protection, the thorns. Others could continue to get stung for all he cared, but he did not want the same fate for himself, not where he had managed to see there was more, so much _more_.

Through her prior pale facade was now a rich depth of color shining through, one that she had _let_ seen him. He had discovered similarities he had thought _impossible_ before and there was _care_ where he would have surmised contempt.

She was a rare and wonderful thing admits all this darkness.

Just like this rose.

With each day the part of him who wanted her to know all that, to make her see how beautiful she was, was becoming bigger and louder, unwilling to back down again like before. Especially now, after the sudden attack that nearly cost him his life, if it hadn't been for Lenya herself, his inner voice had never been louder and more clear. He didn't want to perish without the barest attempt of letting her know. Maybe not everything and at the same time, but _something_.

It was a horrifying and outright scary epiphany and yet a very liberating one. Alistair smiled anew while still observing the rose, watching how the light of descending dusk were glimmering with its rich myriads of colors in its petals.

He wanted her to have this rose.

It would only be fitting.

* * *

_**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews the last time, you all are awesome. *throws cookies*_ _:D_**  
**


	11. Character Interview

_**A/N:** __Some might already know this from my BSN-site. If not, all the better ;) However, t__his happens when I'm stuck with my chapter. I found an interview survey online and couldn't resist to fill it out with my OEaH-characters: _

_**A**listair (Yeah, he isn't my character...but whatever)_  
_**L**enya "Odd Dalish Cookie" Mahariel_

_I know that this is no story per se and in the big bad script style, which isn't very welcomed here on FFN, but it is just for the lulz. So don't get a knot into your knickers ;) I'll update this soon with a real story. And if you squint your eyes you might even find characterization and/or something new in these inane questions/answers. Heh. _

* * *

**Interview Part 1: **

**1. What's your name?**  
A: Alistair _*paused*_ ...err just Alistair, I guess.  
L : _*glares at the interviewer*_  
A: _*looks at her*_ Err, hello? Your name, Miss Sunshine?  
L: _*still glaring_* Why that human wants to know?  
A: I ...don't know. I know it's a bit creepy, sitting here and answering weird questions, but he pays good for it. And we need the money because...Blight, Archdemon and all that stuff. And contrary to popular belief has Bodahn nothing that is remotely "discounted." And I need new ar-  
L: _*sigh*_ Will you stop talking, when I say my name?  
A: Maybe?  
L: _*sigh*_ Okay... Lenya Mahariel.  
A: _*grins pleased at the interviewer*_ That always works.  
L. *glares*

**2. Do you know why you were named that?**  
A: Because I needed...well... a name? Compelling reason, I know.  
L: _*shrugs*_ I think it is a version of "Lyna", which seems to the most common Dalish name for a female. Ever. At the last Arlathven it was quite fun to scream "Lyna" and then run away while half of all women turned around.  
A: Wow, that is...mature.  
L: _*snorts*_ Look who is talking. Also I was 7 years old.  
A: Aww, cuuute. I bet you had pigtails that were bouncing up and down, while running. Little blond ones.  
L: No, I hated hair as a kid. Which was why I always shaved my head with my own blades.  
A: That...was a joke, right? RIGHT?  
L: _*smirk*_  
A: You scare me sometimes.

**3. Are you single or taken?**  
A: I grew up in a Chantry, so no, I never have licked a lamppost, so to speak.  
L: _*__confused_* What have lampposts to do with it?  
A: Dunno. It was rather expected of me to say this at that point, I guess.  
L: Is that a human thing? Or general idiocy?  
A: None? Look, I'm just saying that I never - _*sighs*_ I'm single. _*looks at her for a long moment*_ But I wished... I...I...- _*falls silent*_  
L: Ugh. Love. _That_ is my answer.  
A: _*sigh*_

**4. Have any abilities or powers?**  
A: Umm...Grey Warden here? We can both sense darkspawn.  
L: Which is a totally annoying and creepy ability, by the way.  
A: Well, and there are these dreams of dancing darkspawn sometimes...  
L: _*archs an eyebrow*_ Dancing?  
A: Yep, full Remigold style. Wait..you hadn't...them?  
L: No. _*mutters to herself*_ Definitely a human thing.  
A: Oh. Okay, never mind. You have the _'glare of doom_' down to a perfection, though.  
L: I don't 'glare'  
A: _*snickers*_ Oh, certainly.  
L: _*glares*_  
A: Hah. Got you.  
L: I _hate _you.

**5. Stop being a Mary-sue.**  
A: Maariii Suuu? Is that something to eat?  
L: If so, it sounds shallow and distasteful. Like your cooking.  
A: Heey!

**6. Uh... if you were to get in a fight with a strong wrestler, do you think you'd win?**  
L: _*blinks*_ What's a wrestler?  
A: Don't know. But unless this person or creature isn't insanely stabbity fast with their blades too...Lenya. Hands down.  
L: _*smirks*_

**7. Riiiight... Have any family members?**  
L: _*frowns* _My clan and...*swallows hard, shoulders slumping* But never mind...  
A: _*observes Lenya's dejected posture and then glowers at the interviewer as if ready to kill him*_NEXT QUESTION!

**8. Oh? How about pets?**  
A: No but I have a golem doll...err... figure. A _manly_ one.  
L: A big, angry Mabari, who likes to kill. Good pet, that.  
A: That...horse isn't a_ 'pet'_ exactly. A pet is more something like a -  
L: If you say cat now, I stab you in the face.  
A: Oh look...the clouds. I think there will be rain. Lalala.  
L: Thought so.

**9. Cool, I guess. Tell me something that you don't like.**  
A: Darkspawn. Rainy, ice cold nights on watch. Having constantly not enough to eat. People insulting my fellow Warden just because she is elven.  
L: I agree.  
A: Just like that? *blinks* Wow. Which reminds me, Len, that cat issue of yours. What is this about?  
L: I don't have an issue, I just don't like these evil fluffy...things.  
A: Yeah because they are soo dangerous. Those evil cats.  
L: And insidious!  
A: Riiiight. *laughs*  
L: Stop. Laughing. Now.  
A: Sorry, Lenya can't help it. But I think it's cute.  
L: *pouts* I'm not cute!  
A: Aww. *grins*  
L: *curses in elvish*

**10. Something that you do like?**  
L: _*beams*_ Swords. And those baked round things I totally stole from Sten.  
A: Cookies?... Wait you had cookies and didn't share with me? You meanie. I'm totally telling Sten.  
L: _*rolls eyes*_ How old are you? Twelve?  
A: *chuckles* Also I like this here.  
L: Answering inane questions?  
A: No..spending time apart from the fighting and death. Those quiet moments in camp. I like...well, I like talking to you.  
L: Oh. _*smiles*_I guess...I like that too.

**11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?**  
A: Sorting my _manly_ collection of _manly_ figures. Contrary to other rumors existing in camp are they no dolls, you know?  
L: _*beams*_ Killing things. With my blades.  
A: Have I mentioned before that you scare me?  
L: And I like reading.  
A: That is... _comforting_.

**12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?**  
A: You are doing this on purpose, huh? _*cough*_ Jerkass _*cough*_  
L: _*rolls her shoulders and glares at the interviewer*_ Care to find out?  
A: _*blinks*_ Wow...that guy can ran... fast.

**13. Ever... killed anyone before?**  
A: Darkspawn. Constantly. Even without trying. It is as if they swoop down on us. Unpleasant part of the job, I guess.  
L: As long they don't appear out of thin air or jump from buildings or something, I don't care.  
A: Bad dreams, last night, huh?  
L: *shudders* You have no idea.

**14. What kind of animal are you?**  
A: You better start running. _Now_.  
L: _*jumps on the interviewer and starts to strangle him*_  
A: _*shrugs*_ Too late. _*stands up and pries the fuming Dalish off from him_* Suit yourself.

**15. Your worst habits**  
A: People always say I talk too much. I don't understand that, because I don't think I do. Sure when we sit in camp and have nothing else -  
L: Alistair?  
A: Yes?  
L: Shut up.  
A: _*sigh*_ You should seriously work on your patience though.  
L: I'm patient. _*glares*_  
A: Right. And not in the least short-tempered. Not. At. All.  
L: Oh, I also possess the bad habit to stab annoying humans. Just saying.  
A: Yep, totally patient. _*grins*_  
L: I said shut up!  
A: _*grin widened*_

**16. Do you look up to anyone at all?**  
L: Humans. And Sten. All the time. Stupid long-legs. Well at least the durgen'len are shorter.  
A: I think this was meant more...figuratively, Len.  
L: They are taller. How much more figurative it can gets?  
A: Right _*shakes head in amusement_* I say Duncan.  
L: And I say the human over there can figuratively piss off.

**17. Gay, straight, or bi?**  
A: _*looks at Lenya*_ Straight. Totally. That 'hop boarders' joke Zevran made? I don't fall for that again.  
L: Hop boarders? How one even do this? That... makes no sense.  
A: Tell that Zevran.

**18. Do you go to school?**  
A: I was educated in the Chantry, yes.  
L: Ugh.  
A: _*To the interviewer*_ She always does that when I use the C-word.  
L._ *glares*_  
A: _*sighs*_ I'm not saying that I enjoyed the preaching and praying part, but learning to read and write after years...where I was not able to? Totally awesome. And I really liked the training, too.  
L: I love reading. The Keeper of my clan taught me, as I was still in training as her first.  
A: _*is confused*_ Her first?  
L: Yes, to become the next Keeper. My father was the previous Keeper of our clan, after all. Turned out I had no magic ability whatsoever. Well, never wanted that anyway _*shrugs*_  
A: So...you are a _princess_?  
L. _*glares*_ No. We don't have such inane human terms.  
A: _*snickers*_ Princess!  
L: _*glares*_

**19. Ever wanna marry and have kids one day?**  
L: _*blinks*_ Why should I do that?  
A: Because it is, I don't know, _nice_ to settle down. I would _*clears throat_* _love_ to, but it is not easy doing so as a Grey Warden. Especially not the kids-thing.  
L: Good. Because Children are not unlike demons. They are annoying, demanding and sucking the life out of oneself. But demons I'm allowed to kill, at least.  
A: You are so romantic.

**20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?**  
L: Some say I'm just a rabid, selfish Dalish who hates humans because they are humans. I say they can fuck off.  
A: Aww...but why exactly all the hate for humans, Len?  
L: Aside the fact that they enslaved my people for centuries, are still subjugating us and killed my father, you mean?  
A: Point. Taken. But I'm human and I can't change that. So...do you...well...hate me too?  
L: _* fidgets with her hands, voice tiny*_ ...No.

**21. What are you most afraid of?**  
A: Right now? _*glances at Lenya and frowns*_ Rejection. Been there, done that. Too many times.  
L: _*glances at Alistair and hesitates, feeling awkward*_ Being alone.  
A: You are not alone, Len. I hope you know that.  
A. _*fidgets with the buckles of her armor_* ...Yes.

**22. What color is your hair?**  
L: Green. With pink dots.  
A: Lenya!  
L: What? What kind of an obvious, stupid question is that? I mean one look and one can answer that. So why ask? _*grumbles_* _Humans._  
A: _*rolls eyes*_ Miss Grumpy girl rears her head again.

**23. Eyes?**  
L: Two.  
A: Color, Len. Yours is green, by the way. A rather dark green, but that depends on the lig- _*blush*_ What was the question again?  
L: You are odd.

**24. What do you usually wear?**  
A: Loads of plate armor. You know, that solid kind that protects me from the people and creatures trying to kill me. Which amount is depressingly high.  
L:_ *looks down at her leather armor*_ Another stupid question, Capitan Obvious? Okay...I always wear dresses, like you can see. The flimsy kind.  
A: Mhm...frocks _*trails off*_  
L: Stop that, idiot. _*smacks him on the head*_  
A: Ouch. Sorry. I just have imagined...- Err, never mind.  
L: Alistair the next time we are in Orzammar...can you do me a favor?  
A: _*blinks*_ Yes?  
L: _*glares*_ Take a swim in lava.


	12. This love

_**Prompt:** Capture the moment of your choosing, but it must be 100 words exactly (without title) No more and no less. _

**~V~**

Alistair was watching her, couldn't help it.

Her fingers threaded through her blond strands, combing out the knots residing within. She was sunken in the motion, her expression reflecting in the firelight distant, relaxed.

And so very _beautiful_.

His fingers twitched with the need to touch the silk, to feel _her_. But he didn't move, remained sitting, despite this burning _want_. She was his fellow Warden, a Dalish. She would never love him, a _human_. It wasn't allowed, against all rules he learned.

Eventually, she noticed his gaze, looked up to him, confused. "What's the matter?"

_I love you._

"Nothing..."


	13. Lenya's letter

___**A/N:** Just a little exercise of characterization through a letter for the Writer lounge thread in the BSN-forum. (See details below) I had a shitty day and needed something to take my thoughts off. That is the result. It makes even more sense when you read the new chapter, which will be (most likely) be published tomorrow. Have fun._

_**Prompt:**_ DEAR AUTHOR. Your character writes you (the author) a letter, instructing you quite specifically in how s/he wants to be portrayed in the story. Make your character's personality come through loud and clear in this letter. Try to set yourself aside as you write it.

.

.

* * *

Dear Meri,

I can't even write that without cringing. I mean, _'dear'_ is a bit too much. I know you created me and all that odd stuff that I don't understand, but saying dear to a human like you?

Err...no.

But whatever. So I'm writing this letter and don't know really why, maybe because it is better than sitting outside and listening to Leliana's babbling about shoes. Creators, please tell me that you are not obsessed about shoes, since you created me. And that would be so...ugh, if you are so inane like that woman. Because clearly shoes are _shoes_ and there to keep my feet warm while walking, don't say otherwise. Because I don't give a halla's horn if they are pink or not. ...Wait... come to think of it... pink is ugly. So are ribbons. Though swords are neat. Why can't that human be obsessed with blades? Or Cookies? _Elger'nan_, I suddenly wish Sten would be due to keep watch with me and not...Leliana. _Hmm_, those baked rounded things, the shemlen calls cookies...

But I digress.

So, Meri, you really are the one who breathed life into me? My Creator? A _human_? ...Err...creepy. Okay, a few of you are acceptable, like Morrigan and...Alistair.

Puppy. Human. Idiot. Fellow Warden. _Alas'bora_. Heh. I quite like the names you have allowed me to give him, but considering his level of annoyance, I could have used a lot more in the beginning. Now...after almost two years just _Alistair_ sounds...nice to my elven ears. I don't know why or how you have achieved that, but you really made me trusting a human.

_Me_...the girl who hates them and you know _why_. It is not because I'm Dalish or our history – well it is part of it – but rather that they have taken my parents away from me before I even had the chance to get to know them. Together with the flat ears. I hate humans ever since, yet I'm not a rabid Dalish due to that. I hate it when people call me that. I pretend to not give a fuck, but I can't lie to you (which sucks, by the way) I mean is it so wrong of me to react like _that_ to humans? You would hate them too, if you were the one whose family they killed and from whom they have stolen everything... and your people.

...But Alistair...he is...odd, different. He never gave up on me, no matter how harsh I have been to him. So persisting, so annoying. So...confusing. After I had to leave my clan, I was so lost ...so angry. I took most of it out on him, because he was my fellow Warden. A human.

Of all things.

It was enough to hate him. And not only him, but _everything_. I felt so lost after being thrust out in a world that isn't mine and ruled by the shemlen. Cold. Confusing. Without trees and wrapped in stone. My first impression of Ostagar, in fact. And of the life I never wanted. Grey Warden. For others an honor, for me a punishment. For my nativity back in that cave, something for what Tamlen paid. I should have too and you _know_ it.

But I survived. You know, not that I don't like living and all that, yet away from my clan, in _their_ world and with my best friend dead...it wasn't a life I wanted. You understood that and let me be. Alistair did so too, just in a lot more annoying way and with using in lot more words. Asking questions. Trying to be friends with me. He never let go, never gave up...and now I guess he succeeded. I call him a friend._ Lethallin._ Him, a _human_. Yeah, go on, keep gloating. You have all planned that, haven't you?

Still, he was –_is_– the only other one in our group who understands how the thrumming of tainted feels when darkspawn are close. Who sees the archdemon in his dreams, too. Who also bears the burden of being a Warden. Fellow Warden. Kin, in a way. I don't know how I feel in his near, but it is far from all the bitterness and hatred in the beginning. Maybe calm. _Good_. Strangely enough.

Odd to write that about a human to a human. But I guess I'm in your world now, I can't go back into mine. I have seen too much for that, I'm not the innocent Dalish anymore (if I ever was that in the first place, heh) My clan is gone. Still I miss them, I always will. Especially Ashalle. And Tamlen. Not so much Merrill, but whatever.

It is weird to me that you know of them. Of all of my past. Yet I'm grateful you give me the time to remember my time with them, even if it hurts. Yeah, sometimes I want to smack you right into the face for all the things you make me do, for all the pain you bring me just to write this story thing. I guess it is partly my fault because I told you to write the _whole_ story and not just snippets of it. And here I am even years later, it is still not finished. It is not a bad thing, because it gave me the needed time to learn, to grow. I'm better now than in the beginning, less naïve and young (for the lack of a better word).

I don't know where my path will lead me, there is still the matter of the Blight. I _want_ to fight it, because I don't want the darkspawn to win. That would make me a bad Grey Warden, worse than I already am. Can't have that, because being a Warden is all that is left for me, which really is...not much. But at least it is _something_. Something that is clear and _obvious_ where everything else is so confusing at the moment. But I know I'm not alone. I have Arai, Morrigan, Shale, Sten, Zevran, Oghren, Wynne and ...even that shoe-obsessing freak out there. But most of all a _fellow_ Warden. Not alone, _not_ the only one. Good feeling, _that_. The rest I will figure out on the way, even if it is only to cross your own and always too inane plans. Heh.

Whatever.

**Lenya Mahariel **

**_PS:_** I'm appalled that you are owning a – _ugh_ – ...c-cat. I mean they are..._ugh_. So evil. And mean. You are truly weird. Then again, you are a human. So it fits.


	14. Busy

_**A/N:** My prompt fill for the BSN Alistair thread (prompt see below). Rated T for suggestive stuff, but nothing serious. OEaH will get an update soon, no worries. I'm just taking a short break of the misery train in there. Enjoy, heh._

_.  
_

* * *

_.  
_

**Prompt:** Busy, busy, busy

.

* * *

.

The light was blinding and piercing his sight.

Alistair stumbled forward and away from tent he'd occupied, one hand held protectively in front his face to block most of the harsh light of day. He hadn't notice that it was already _that_ late, but if he was honest, he didn't _care_ either.

The fire in the middle of their provisional camp cracked loudly, inviting him with its warmth. Without thinking, he followed its trail and blinked rashly to clean his eyes from sleep. Finally able to bear the brightness, Alistair started to scan the area for things... _edible_. He didn't particular care _what_, he simple wanted food. _Something_ to calm his roaring taint-induced hunger within. Though like so often when they were on the road, the rations they had per day for each and every one in their group were small, not _enough_. For him, there never was.

The wood within the flames shifted, almost falling over, and sparks spiraled lazily into the air. Sighing, Alistair let himself down on the ground in front of the fire. He suddenly missed the walls of Eamon's castle and especially, _well_, its stuffed larder. It was only the hunger that lured him out of sleep and the tent in the first place. Though even if he managed to find something to eat, he wouldn't have much time until – "

"Ah, you look tired, my friend. _Busy_ night?"

Right, the _last_ thing he needed was the assassin and his very lame innuendos. Alistair found a smug grin in the elf's face and decided to mirror it with his own. "If you insist to know: _Yes_."

"And you say that so freely without blushing." Zevran clasped his hands together in joy. "Marvelous. It seems even you are capable to learn, no?" Unbidden as usual, the elf alighted himself next to him and faked a thoughtful pose. "Mhm... and while we are at _learning_ have you considered –" The rest of Zevran's words were whispered in his ear, its meaning and the pictures it induced heated his cheeks.

Much to his dismay.

Grinning the elf backed away, apparently satisfied with the result. "No? You really haven't tried that? Ah, a pity. You _should_." Shrugging, he turned to rummage in the bag behind him and hence missed Alistair's glare.

_Curse that assassin. Curse him, his experience and the apple he was...eating? ...Wait...what?_

Alistair found himself staring at the fruit in utter disbelief, simultaneously with the rumbling of his stomach. "Where did you get _that_ apple?"

Zevran chewed leisurely on the piece in his mouth and blinked up to him in an innocent fashion. "Why? Ah, it is really tasty, thank you."

Alistair felt his temper flaring, his patience with the elf at an end." Tell me!"

"From the bag behind me of course." Zevran shrugged. "I allowed myself to take some extra rations from Eamon's larder. The old man didn't look as if he would need it. Tucked in his luxurious bed as he is, while we are on this ridiculous quest to search for the Ashes to _save_ him." Another shrug. "Ah well, want an apple too? I'm in the mood to share."

There was many words running through his head and _none_ of them nice, but all Alistair found himself saying was a meekly, "Yes."

_Curse you taint..._

The grin in Zevran's face widened and subsequently turned into something smug, suggestive. "Well, then feel free to help yourself, my friend, but please consider your lovely Dalish lady too. You don't want leave her starving, no?"

No, Alistair wanted all _but_ that. Excited by the unexpected prospect of food, he rummaged in the secret stash and smiled at the thought of quickly returning from where he came. Normally he wouldn't be thankful when one of their companions got hurt so badly they had to interrupt their travel for _days_, but in this case he somewhat was. Not to mention that Morrigan was like bad weed. Like an annoying plant, she never would go away and least of all _wither, _no matter how much one might wish for it.

Wrapped up in his task to pile food within his arms, Alistair didn't notice her approach until he felt the familiar pull of taint in his guts. The _good_ one. Lenya's arms came around his neck before he could even turn around to welcome her. The press of her warm body against his back and the light circles her fingers drew on his chest made it hard to form a coherent sentence. Maker, he would never stop to marvel at the effects this woman had on him.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Sorry, love. I didn't want to wake you. I..._tried_ to be quiet."

"Curious." Her chuckle tickled on his ear, the breath hot as she whispered the following words, amused, "Are we being quiet now? That's news."

His mouth snapped open to answer, but promptly closed in all silence, as her daring words followed a not less bold _action. _Feeling her teeth and lips nibbling at his earlobe incited in him another sort of hunger, one that couldn't be sated with food. "When I woke up, I went and I checked on Morrigan," Lenya continued, her lips still so deliciously close to his ear. "She is recovering nicely, but we won't break up camp for at least a day."

"Well... -"

The thought of replying in any form scattered into nothingness, as her hands on his chest trailed slowly lower, her voice a suggestive hum. "So since there is so _much_ time left now, why don't we pick up where we stopped last time, hmm?" With a final smile, Lenya withdrew from his reach, wrapped the blanket around herself again and vanished into the direction of their shared tent again.

"You are quite taken with each other." There was a snort that sounded distinctively like Wynne, but he could bring himself to turn his head to the source of it.

In a speed that even surprised himself, Alistair jumped up from his place and whirled round to follow the beckoning of this wonderful woman. How could he _not? _

But on half of the way he stopped and returned to the fireplace to reclaim the prior forgotten food. It would be a _long_ day, after all.

"Alistair, we really sh– "

"Sorry Wynne, can't talk now. I'm _busy_."


	15. Memories

_This little ficlet is an answer to a CMDA challenge:_

_Pick a character you've written about before in 3rd person and write their first, or best, memory from the first-person point of view ("I narration"). No limits on length, or brevity for that matter._

_Who I chose should be obvious ;)_

* * *

I remember when home meant the embrace of my clan, safe and sheltered from the cruelty lying beyond their borders. I remember the way the sun and wind caressed my face when I ran through the forest. Alone. _Free_.

I remember the sound of the thicket and dry wood crunching under my feet; the smell of pinewood, earth and rain. The rich multitude of colors when I sat within the middle of a meadow, silently marveling at the beauty of nature for hours. I remember the delight I felt as I discovered a wayward bush of raspberries and their savory, sweet taste as I took the plump fruit between my teeth and slowly bit down.

I remember the days when the biggest sorrow was to hunt enough food for the clan. Where my days were full of laughter and childish shenanigans. I remember Tamlen. My friend, my brother, being _alive_ and the one laughing with me. Or being the one comforting me, smothering my frustration when I failed to live up to my clan's expectations. I remember Ashalle. Her gentle, warm smile, loving me like a mother would love her daughter. I remember her nagging and lectures when I tested and stretched the tight boundaries around me for countless times. The way she cared for me, dispelling all fears hunting me. And the way my clan cared for me in spite of me not fitting into my father's too large shadow.

Home.

I remember calling that wherever my clan would wander.

But they are gone now and I couldn't follow.

I'm too lost in darkness, caught in a perpetual nightmare of blood, death and pain. Searing fire is roaring through my veins night after night, along with the bitter song of taint resounding in my head. The taste of past mistakes lingers with and inside me, the guilt bitter and unforgettable on my lips. My blades, once only used for playful practice, are severing now limbs and heads in a steady and emotionless routine. The acrid stank of their rotten bodies is staying with me, their poisonous blood burns on my skin like fire.

Grey Warden they call me, the weight of ending the Blight and the many lives depending on me heavy on my small shoulders. Survival and fighting now dictates my days once full of laughter, a needed evil to fulfill the duty this unwanted title and life brings with it. My old life and everything what I called home are forever lost in a distant haze, yet I remember it so clearly.

I cannot go back, no matter how I wish for it. Sometimes. ...Often.

My innocence is torn, shred to pieces by the blood I share with these creatures I vowed to kill. Home is far behind. Where once was the beauty of nature is now dust and blighted land. So I go on and thread the path I did not choose, until the darkness ends or devours me.

A hand upon my shoulder reminds me of being not alone on this path, the heat of its touch seeps through the leather of my armor. I close my eyes, take a breath. Once. Twice.

Turning around, I look into the face of a human, my fellow Warden. His gaze lingers wondering on me and yet expresses a mute understanding. Within the liquid amber of his eyes I see bare, genuine affection and a warmth starts to flood me, dispels these dark thoughts in its wake. He smiles and gently takes my hand in his, to give it a reassuring squeeze.

With this little gesture, I finally remember that some of home is still with me.


	16. Bathing

_This scene is a little preview of my following chapter of OEaH, but also well enough usable as a (smutty) one-shot. Thus the rating goes up here, as well. Heh. Unbeta-d still, but I will replace this with tklivory's magic beta-d one, as soon I have it. This takes place after Marjolaine and, err, their first night. Obviously ;)_

* * *

**Bathing **

.

"Lenya?"

No answer followed his call within her –no, _their_- room, the arrangement changed without his knowledge by their companions. Alistair pursued a trail of bloodied armor and clothes on the floor, the air hazed with dampness and a rich, flowery scent. It led him past the flames flickering golden in the fireplace and toward the stone bath in the corner.

"There you are." He felt a rush of giddiness upon seeing her whole and _there_, still loving him. It was an entirely irrational notion, stirred from deep within and his talk with Wynne not long ago. Then Alistair noticed that he caught her in an unaware moment with her eyes closed, floating_naked _in the steaming water_. _The blushing virgin annoyingly still residing inside him reared its ugly head, letting him whirl round. "S-sorry."

Much to her apparent amusement. "For what? Seeing me naked, or not watching me bathing a moment longer?"

Her contended sigh and the splashing noise indicated how she stretched her limbs in the water. He chuckled about his own inability to turn around to actually _see_ it. "_Both_?"

"Hmm, while I appreciate your sweet politeness, it is unneeded, Atish'an. Besides, I remember you being less shy a few hours ago."

"Old habits die hard, it seems." To not lose his momentum in favor of the urge to watch her naked form for the rest of the evening and…more, he walked over to his pack and kicked his boots off. "So you mysteriously vanished to visit Leliana's old 'friend' with her?"

"Not much an old friend as an utterly insane, manipulative _shemlen_. Good riddance, I say."

Knowing how rare it had become to hear Lenya using this racial slur, she must have really disliked the encounter with Marjolaine. "You killed her?" Alistair unbuckled his belt and lay the scabbard with his sword next to the bed, glad to be freed of its familiar weight for one evening, at least.

"No. _I_ did not." She sighed. "It wasn't my place to decide this. And as it was decided then, it wasn't my place to take her life either. I was just there for additional, well, support."

_Leliana did_, was the unspoken, yet clear message within. Alistair blinked, grasping its meaning only now in its full volume. "Having to end the life of the woman she once loved? Wow, that is…messed up. Poor Leliana."

"Yeah. Probably the right decision though, seeing how she tried to sow doubts about Leliana's loyalty within me." Lenya let out a derisive snort. "Another human underestimating me in the already long gallery of now dead people. They. Never. Learn. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

To someone else, someone _not_ knowing her as much as he did, these words would have sounded haughty and arrogant. To him, it was simply the truth. Their opponents always only saw the petite elven girl, far too fragile in their eyes to be the menace and brilliant fighter Lenya, in reality, was. At least not until it was way too late to redeem their grave mistake. Alistair smiled, fondly, and turned to return to her.

Lenya arched a brow at his sudden frozen form, not in the slightest shy under his roaming gaze. "Ah, liking what you finally are able to see, I suppose?"

"You are naked.. and wet. And naked. Did I mention _wet__?_ I guess I did," he blurted and cleared his throat to halt his gratuitous mental flailing." Suddenly I feel a lot…_warmer_. But you are…unhurt, I hope?"

"Well, that shemlen was kind of…expecting us, hence not alone. In company of a few Qunari mercenaries, to be exact. Who were strong…" she paused to let herself fall backwards into the water, momentarily vanishing within. The smirk in her face upon her resurface gave away her awareness of him watching. And how could he not? "…but _slow_."

"That's my girl," he said, not without much pride and leaned in to finally, _finally_ kiss her. A notion Lenya welcomed with a lot of enthusiasm of her own. Her hands heated from the steaming water cradled his cheeks, their warmth trailed like fire on his skin, and further down. She tilted her head slightly for better access and the kiss added quickly in fervor and momentum.

"I was okay before, to answer your question, _ma vhenan._" She looked at him through half-lidded eyes, as she drew away. But Lenya lingered in an intimate space still, her breath palpable upon his face as she spoke. "Though now I'm a lot _better_."

"Good to know." Smiling, Alistair ducked his head to kiss her shoulder and letting his hands follow. With a sigh, Lenya leaned into his touch, when he begun to tentatively knead out the tension residing within her muscles. "Lots of fighting today, huh?"

"Less than usual," she murmured and sagged into the water, relaxing." Oh Creators, _where_ did you learn that?"

Alistair chuckled, the vibration elicited goosebumps on the nape of her neck."To be honest: I have no idea what I'm doing." Kneeling, he scooted closer to the stony tub and her, to kiss it away. "I just thought you would like it."

"Hmm, oh yes, I do," her voice had adapted the particular low and purring tone he only heard from her on one occasion before. Last night. The realization of this fact, together with the scented water and the touch of her skin underneath his palms were an arousing, wholly sensual mixture. Not to mention the sight of her naked frame, glistening wet and glorious, splayed out in the tub.

"What is this smell, actually?"

Lenya didn't reply at first and sounded drowsy as she did. A compliment to his prior unknown massage skills, he supposed. "Some frilly bath oil nonsense from Orlais, I found in the marketplace. It smelled nice and I figured it would be some time until 'smelling nice' becomes an option again, so I bought it."

"Frilly, but…I like it, especially on you." He moved closer and let his lips graze along the hollow line of her shoulder blades, his tongue flicking against her tender skin. Its taste reminded him of honeyed Dalish wine, strong and sweet in flavor and scent.

Lenya hummed her approval and took his now slack hands to place a kiss on his palm. "And I like how you make me feel, Atish'an." Stretching herself, she lay back on the edge of the stone tub and cast a covert glance at him through lowered lashes, smiling. He watched her in amazement, his mouth dry. She was mesmerizing. "I have never desired someone, nor the other way around. This is something entirely new to me, but with you it feels normal and good, as if it should be."

A warmth not coming from the steamed air or the heat of her skin spread inside of him at her admission. "Likewise." Lenya heaved her head up, and recognizing her intend, he met her halfway, her mouth a hot brand upon his own. His fingertips trailed downwards, ever so lightly, over the swell of her breast and taught stomach. She arched her back into his touch, the quiet groan swallowed by his lips. "Though…" Alistair halted to clear his throat and shifted his position, grimacing slightly. Kneeling was getting increasingly uncomfortable. "…it is hard to imagine that you had no admirer within your clan. The elven boys must have been crazy about you."

"I can be scary, as you know," she smirked, knowingly." …And there wasn't one who interested me in this way. No, I never knew love until I met you." She paused, her eyes widening. "Oh Creators, that is the most sappy thing I ever said in my life."

Alistair chuckled, amused at how Lenya always managed to scatter any romantic mood. "Many firsts lately, huh?"

"Hmm, though it not the first time that I'm the only one being naked here. We need to change that. Come in."

And how she brought it back with a few words. Or in this case, with a flick of her hand. His hips rocked up against the palm teasing his hardened length, shuddering. "W-with you?" As soon these words were spoken, he regretted them. _Maker, what a dumb question._

"No wait, I just get out here to get Wynne." She stilled her hand to give him a devilish smile, clearly enjoying his squirming. "Or Oghren. I'm sure he could use a bath."

Now _that_ was a sobering thought. "Alright, I got the hint. Stupid of me to ask."

"Good. Now off with these." As if to give her words even more credit, Lenya slipped her fingers into his pants and wrapped them around his shaft. For a moment, Alistair forget all movements, lost in the feeling. "And I also like how _you_ feel, Atish'an."

Biting his lower lip, he stifled a moan. With the way her hand worked, it cost him much concentration to even remember how to use coherent words. "I-I thought you don't want to… –"

"Yes, this is still true." Alistair mentally cursed as she withdrew her touch, leaving him yearning for more. "Though taking a break doesn't mean I also stop wanting to be close to you, or to touch you. Or you me, for that matter. Quite the opposite, I think of little else ever since last night."

Alistair didn't know why, but hearing this made him proud, _happy_. She wanted him, enjoyed his caresses and closeness. "Is that so?" he asked, voice low, as he got rid of his tunic and the now very confining breeches.

Lenya only grinned, whether to play along or upon seeing him getting naked, he couldn't say. "Yeah. And, well, I also could use some assistance in washing my back."

Laughing, he stole a kiss from her before carefully stepping into the tub. The water was all but steamy by now, though the company within was much too interesting for him to really notice this fact. "Oh, I'm excellent in this, too. Trust me."

"Wow, so many talents? I'm a lucky girl, indeed." She skidded to the side, to make room for him. "Come here."

She didn't have to say it twice.


End file.
